


A+ For Complications

by eternal_fireworks



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Angst, Betrayal, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, I love you's, Kissing, Language, M/M, Mentions of childhood abuse, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 96,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5646778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_fireworks/pseuds/eternal_fireworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reluctant Ian Gallagher is forced to tutor an equally unwilling Mickey Milkovich.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so originally I was going to wait until I had written this whole fic to post the first chapter but that plan means I have almost no motivation to write it, especially given the recent episode of which we won't speak about... And I really wanted to finish it before everyone gives up on this show completely, so here ya go :) x x x

“You’re joking, right? This is a joke.” Ian Gallagher was slumped in a chair across from his favourite teacher in his empty English classroom, having just received the worst news of the fucking century. He was only just starting the second week of the semester for Christ’s sake. 

“No, Ian. Unfortunately I am not joking. He has to pass this class to get into senior year, and not one of my students has failed to graduate into the next year group. Ever.” The young teacher fixed Ian with a steady look, as though warning him that this was not a situation he could charm his way out of. Ian hit him with ‘the chin’ and he sighed. “Ian, you’re my best pupil, I thought you’d be up to the task. I wouldn’t just ask anyone to do this.”

He gave Ian a meaningful look and Ian slid down even further in his chair. “Mr P, is there really no one else? I have to focus on West Point this year, all my grades have to be higher than high and-“

“Oh did I not mention?” Mr Pearson smirked at Ian, and the red-headed boy prepared himself for defeat. “If you do this, and he passes his exams, it will earn you a lot of extra credit. Something that is necessary on a West Point application I believe?” His smirk widened as Ian’s let his head fall backwards, letting out a huge sigh. The English teacher knew his mission was complete.

After thinking about it for a split-second, Ian decided. “Fine, I’ll do it. But if I don’t get into West Point, I will hold you personally responsible.” 

Mr Pearson laughed. “I accept the blame, should it come to that. But Ian, I truly believe you have it in you, to pursue this dream of yours.” He smiled fondly at Ian as the grumpy teen got up, picked up his bag and made for the door.

“Remember Ian, he has to pass. Or I can’t award you the credits.” Ian turned back, his hand on the doorknob. 

“You got it, chief!” He said sarcastically, opening the door and closing it behind him. Once he was out of sight of his English teacher he leant against some lockers, and the anxiety kicked in. He had just agreed to tutor Mickey Milkovich in English, for the whole of the school year.

Fuck.

***  
“Mickey Milkovich?!” Melissa exclaimed, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder and almost spitting out the piece of lettuce she was determinedly chewing down.  
“I told you it was a disaster!” Ian groaned, letting his head fall onto his folded arms which rested on the table in front of him. As soon as Ian had sat down at his usual table in the cafeteria, he wasted no time in telling his friends the whole sad and sorry tale.

“And you agreed? What did Mr P offer you, a scholarship to West Point or something?” Craig asked, munching away on his tuna and cucumber sandwich, getting a little on his chin in the process. The fourth member of their group, Jade, grimaced and wiped it off with her thumb as Ian replied. 

“No, but something to help me along.” Ian straightened up, resting his chin on his hand. “If he passes the subject I get a shit load of extra credit to go onto my application.” 

Craig nodded and said “Better make sure he passes the year then!” 

Melissa snorted into her chicken caesar salad and Ian looked at her, affronted. “You don’t think I could do it?” he asked.

“Oh I think you could do it,” she explained, poking around for any pieces of chicken she’d missed in the pathetically barren lunch box, “providing he turns up to the sessions… and the exam, and you know, tries… at all.” Ian’s heart sank at her words. She was right. If Mickey’s reputation that proceeded him was correct, Ian could kiss his dreams of West Point goodbye. 

“Oh my god I feel sick.” Ian groaned, yet again letting his head fall onto his arms in a display of absolute hopelessness. 

“Well it’s probably because you haven’t eaten anything.” Jade chimed in. “Don’t you have any lunch today?” 

“That’s the first thing you comment on during this crisis?” Ian said, peering up at her incredulously. “My eating habits?” Jade just shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows at Ian.

“Food is very important for you to, you know, stay alive during said crisis so I find it reasonable that a necessity such as food is the first thing I comment on.” Ian rolled his eyes at his friend before shutting them firmly. “And you didn’t answer the question.”

“No food in the house,” Ian said simply. “We were behind on the gas bill again, meaning no groceries for a couple days.” Ian’s three friends shared a look over his head. This was the third day in two weeks that Ian’s family hadn’t had enough money for food. “Stop looking at each other like that, I’m fine.” Ian said, even though he hadn’t even opened his eyes.

He straightened up to find Craig’s half-tuna-and-cucumber sandwich being shoved under his nose. Ian grimaced. “Get that thing away from me man, I’d rather eat shit.” Craig just shrugged before taking a massive bite, making an exaggerated humming noise in satisfaction, while Ian fake-gagged and the girls giggled. Ian’s lack of lunch being thankfully forgotten.

“Hey, hey!” Jade said in a hushed whisper a few minutes later, looking at something just over Ian’s head. “Incoming!” The three other friends not-so-subtly looked around to see what Jade had pointed out.

There, swaggering through the doors to the cafeteria was the man of the moment. The second Cole Jenkins and his posse sauntered in (Mickey being one of the foursome), the whole atmosphere in the cafeteria changed. The room got quieter, and if you looked closely enough, you would see the students bowing their heads, trying desperately not to draw attention to themselves. The four thugs of the school were bound to pick on someone, and in that moment, every single person was praying to the many Gods it wouldn’t be them.

Cole scanned the room, running a tattooed hand through his bleached blonde hair with a smirk on his face, no doubt searching for today’s prey. His three cronies also looked around the cafeteria, daring someone to make eye contact. Jade, Melissa and Craig had followed the other students’ lead and were focussed intently on their food, Ian however was somehow frozen in his place and continued to look right at them. 

Mickey Milkovich’s steely blue eyes found his, and Ian’s heart did a sort of summersault of fear. His brain begged himself to move, to avert his eyes, but his body just wasn’t catching up. They stared right at each other, daring the other to make a move. Ian felt his heart jump into his throat as Mickey opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out Cole was on the move, having located his target of the day. 

As the group of thugs moved across the cafeteria, Ian found himself unable to look away from Mickey. The two boys kept the intense eye contact until the thug finally looked away and broke it, cracking his tattooed knuckles, clearly in an effort to intimidate the sophomore who was currently getting his wallet robbed. 

“Ian, what the fuck was that?!” Melissa exclaimed, “It’s like you were asking for them to pick on you!” Ian huffed out a breath, turning away from Mickey to face his friend.

“Well I suppose I should get used to being around him and his charming persona now rather than later.” He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “And anyway, if they’d tried to steal my wallet, all they would have found is a library card and an expired MacDonald’s coupon. They could rob my house for all I care, I’d probably try to find money with them.” 

Jade and Craig sniggered, but Melissa remained stony faced. “You saw what they did to Benny, Ian.” She remarked, referring to her little brother, who had been beaten up nice and good when he decided to get cheeky with Cole and his gang. “Don’t go asking for trouble!” 

“I won’t.” Ian replied. Shortly afterwards he felt a sharp pain as someone smacked him hard across the head. Ian stood up quickly, turning to face his attacker and finding himself nose to nose with Mickey. 

“What the fuck were you looking at back there, Gallagher?” Mickey sneered, Ian’s advantage on height not affecting him in the slightest, even as he looked up into the redheads face. 

“Nothing.” Ian said. He knew he should have thought of something wittier but even as Ian looked down into Mickey’s smirking face, he felt like he was an inch tall and his mind went completely blank. He could feel his friends’ worried gazes burning into the back of his skull. 

“I ain’t used to people staring at me, especially not red-headed little shits like you.” Mickey continued to stare into his face, and Ian noticed rather unnervingly that he hadn’t yet seen him blink, he felt as though Mickey could see straight through him, his eyes were so blue. However Mickey’s last comment broke Ian out of his daze, making him snigger slightly.

“Well I guess you better get used to it.” Ian said, this time smirking right back. He felt the tiny version of himself grow about two inches at Mickey’s confused glare. 

“The fuck’s that meant to mean?” Mickey said.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” Ian remarked casually. Mickey opened his mouth to reply but was again interrupted by his friends. 

“Mickey, we’re leaving. Let’s go.” Mickey looked over at Cole, who had spoken, then back at Ian. He gave the redhead on last look of contempt before walking back over to his group of thugs, and engaging in conversation with one of them, Damon Callaway. Ian waited until the posse had left the cafeteria before exhaling the large amount of breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. 

“So I guess he doesn’t know you’re his tutor yet then.” Jade remarked, looking through the doors at the group of boys who were now in the distance.  
“I guess not.” Ian said quietly. He took one last look at Mickey’s retreating figure and sat back down. “I can just tell this year is going to be a barrel of laughs.”

***

“So, how’s it going with Kash?” Jade asked as her and Ian stood by their lockers before trig.

“It’s okay… But I think I’m going to quit the Kash and Grab.” Ian confided in her. Jade was the only one who knew about Ian and Kash’s relationship. Melissa would judge the hell out of him and Craig’s dad is a cop, so if word ever got out to him Kash would be put away in about 3 seconds flat. Jade however, was a romantic.

“Why? Ian we’ve been through this. I thought you and Fiona were the only sources of income? Why would you give up such a stable position?” As well as being a romantic, everything in Jade’s book was done by practicality and logic. Her dad was a successful North-side lawyer, and his influence showed through her every day.

“The pay isn’t good enough. I need a better job if we’re gonna make it through the winter. Usually the jobs we get in summer are enough to see us through, but not this year, especially now we’ve lost Lip to UofC. Plus Linda is definitely onto us and Kash is starting to freak me out a bit.” Ian said as he reorganised the books in his locker for the thousandth time. 

Ian and Kash had been fucking for about a year, and in the beginning Ian had loved it. He loved getting the attention he didn’t get at home, especially from someone who adored him.

“I don’t know, Ian.” Jade said doubtfully as she twirled her hair and Ian checked his phone. “Maybe hold off on quitting until you’ve at least got a possible job lined up. And let him down gently, because you know he’ll have to write you a killer reference for you to secure another job that pays more than his.” 

Ian sighed and shut his locker before leaning against it to look at Jade, heaving a sigh. “You’re right. But I’m going to have to do it soon because I don’t know how many more times I can get down and su-“ 

“No! No no no!” Jade said, sticking her fingers in her ears, her face screwed up into a look of pure disgust. “I do not wish to know the gory details thank you very much!” Ian laughed, but in the back of his mind, a voice was telling him that he’s said this a million times before, and nothing had been done as of yet. But today, Ian thought, today will be different. 

He tugged Jade’s hands away from her ears. “You’ll be happy to know that Lip is bringing us back some food from college tonight, so I’ll get at least one solid meal.” Ian said and Jade smiled. He may have teased her about it, but secretly he loved that someone outside of family cared enough about him to make sure he was eating right. 

“Good.” She said, before linking her arm through Ian’s and tugging him along the corridor towards the math department. “Come on, the triangles are calling us!”

***

By the time Ian stumbled into the Kash and Grab, he’d had the day from hell. He’d completely zoned out in trig, agonising over his coming tutoring sessions with Mickey, then made himself look like a tit when he couldn’t answer a simple question. He’d then failed to make any history notes during his lesson due to thinking about how to let Kash down easy in return for a reference (He was going to do it today, he was. A hundred percent), only to discover that they had a pop quiz the next day, which he would now have to stay up all night studying for. Then to top it all off, the bus was late meaning he had arrived twenty minutes after his shift had started, Linda was going to have his ass. 

“Ian, you’re-“

“Late, I know.” Ian supplied, finishing Linda’s sentence for her. Kash stood behind her, pretending to stock shelves as he actually smirked at Ian over her shoulder. Linda gave Ian a sharp look when he interrupted her. 

“Don’t let it happen again. You’re doing inventory tonight.” 

It took all Ian had not to groan out loud. Linda barked orders at Kash for a couple more minutes before a cry from one of the children upstairs had her racing away. Kash pounced on Ian as soon as she’d left the room. Ian sighed and tried his best to ignore the older man as he stood behind him, running his hands up Ian’s sides, mouthing at his neck. 

“I was afraid you weren’t going to come, you were so late.” Kash said, his breath hot on Ian’s skin. It took all Ian’s willpower not to squirm beneath his touch. 

“Yeah well, I’ve had a really bad day so-“

“Really?” Kash interrupted, his hands stilling on Ian’s hips. “Well you’re here now, let’s see what we can do about that pent up stress.” Ian squirmed before backing up, pushing Kash lightly away. 

“What’s wrong?” Kash said. Ian remained with his back to him, he opened his mouth to speak but before he could, Kash groaned.

“Oh god, what is it?” Ian could hear in his voice that he was agitated. He turned around to see him running a hand through his hair. “You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you? That’s it, isn’t it?” Ian’s mind immediately jumped to luxury penthouses, the taste of expensive champagne and countless room service menus.

“No!” Ian lied.

“Oh,” Kash just looked concerned now. The look of concern, worry and love Ian didn’t get from many people. A look he wasn’t sure he wanted to give up straight away. Ian turned back to face the shelves.

“It’s nothing.” Ian said, sighing as yet again, his resolve to get out of this mess had broken. He felt Kash return to his place behind him, resuming his gentle caressing and kissing.  
Ian relaxed into his touch. He hated this hold Kash had over him. One minute he’d be one hundred percent sure he was quitting, leaving Kash and his mistress days behind, the next second he would be running back with his tail between his legs. But he knew he had to, because who else would put up with all his shit. No one who knew him as well as Kash did would want to be with him, and yet here he was. 

“I thought, maybe for a second you were going to tell me you were quitting,” Ian’s heart sped up slightly, “I don’t know what I’d do if you left… Well, I do. I would make sure you wouldn’t be employed anywhere else… Except maybe that chicken shop that pays like $1 an hour. You’d come running back, you always do.” He said it jovially, in a jokey manner, but somehow the way Kash’s hand closed around his wrist, a little too tightly made Ian think he was serious. Very serious.

He thought of Fiona, and the little income she received from Worldwide Cup, he thought of Debbie, Carl and Liam, who had not eaten today either. He couldn’t risk losing what little income he was contributing. He couldn’t. 

He turned around to face the older man, double checking for any sign of Linda before leaning in and pressing his lips to Kash’s. He couldn’t leave this place anyway, hardly anyone was hiring now that summer was over. In the depths of his mind he knew it was an excuse. He didn’t love Kash, but Kash loved him. Showered him with praise and affection, dealt with his mixed signals and mood swings, and that was all he needed. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to. Yeah, there were other guys, but he knew his boss was the one he would always come back to, the one constant in his chaotic life, whom he would cling to like a rock.

He pushed Kash towards their blind-spot, kissing his neck before he sank down to his knees. The older man threaded a hand into his hair as Ian got to work on his zipper. Kash wasn’t the love of his life, but Ian didn’t even know if those existed, for anyone. The thought of finding someone who would ever love him more than Kash, let alone love them back just as much, was absurd to Ian. He didn’t for a minute think he would ever find anyone better than the man standing above him. 

At that very moment, across the city, a fuming Mickey Milkovich stormed out of his evening detention with Mr Pearson having just received the worst news of the fucking century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS. Camouflage by Selena Gomez is such a Mickey/Ian song (from Mickey's POV), especially in their current situation so give it a listen and cry with me


	2. Chapter 2

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Mickey all but yelled across the desk at his English teacher.

“Language, Mr Milkovich. And no, I am not ‘kidding you’.” Mr Pearson sighed at the expression of pure rage on Mickey’s face, and he ran a hand through his hair tiredly before continuing. “I’m sorry, but the way you’re progressing in English this year… implies you’re not going to pass this year without some extra help-“

“So now I gotta waste my time with some nerd telling me what to do? Don’t think so, might as well quit while I’m ahead.” Mickey interrupted, slumping in his seat, and behind the blasé ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ attitude, Mr Pearson recognised the dejectedness in his student’s voice.

“Mikhailo,” Mickey rolled his eyes at the use of his full name. “I truly believe that with Ian’s help you can enter into the sen-“However Mickey interrupted again.

“Wait… Ian? Ian Gallagher?!”Mickey’s stomach sank too somewhere around his knees. His friends were never going to let this go. “No. No way. I’m not doing it.” Mickey thought back to what Gallagher had said in the cafeteria. ‘You’ll find out soon enough’. _Fuck._

“Yes, Mickey. Yes you are. And I would appreciate it if you stopped interrupting me.” Mickey glowered at his teacher, but didn’t speak. Mr Pearson clasped his hands together, looked Mickey right in the eye and continued. “Now you are my student, so when it comes to English you are my responsibility and I _will not_ let you fail this class. So you will attend extra sessions with Mr Gallagher two times a week, and he will regularly update me on your progress.”

Mickey closed his eyes and groaned. “Are we agreed?” Mr Pearson asked. Mickey opened his eyes and glared stonily at him, but Mr Pearson having had a long day, was having none of it. “Mikhailo, are we agreed?” Mickey made a large effort to perform the minutest nod he could in conformation.

“Good.” Mr Pearson said, picking up some papers on his desk and shuffling them. “You may go.” Mickey heaved a large sigh before dragging himself out of his chair and walking to the door. Once he was outside the classroom he walked a few steps he took a huge breath and let out a strangled yell of frustration, earning him a scandalised look from the janitor who was mopping the floor a few feet away.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at?” Mickey asked, making the janitor go pale and mutter a hastened apology. Back inside the classroom, Mr Pearson smirked in amusement at Mickey’s completely unnecessary outburst.

***

Mickey shot a quick text to Damon as he walked home, telling him the disastrous news that Ian Gallagher was now his fucking tutor. He stomped angrily for a few seconds before pulling his buzzing phone out of his pocket to read Damon’s reply.

**[Damon the Shithead – 18:08]  
Oh my fucking god, this is classic. I can’t believe you agreed to this. Cole and Matt are gonna shit themselves laughing. **

**[Me – 18:10]  
I didn’t have a fucking choice man! Pearson hates my fucking guts, says he wouldn’t let me fail the year. Fuck that guy, probably won’t even turn up to the sessions, he can go fuck himself.**

**[Damon the Shithead – 18:13]  
Nah man, you have to go. It may suck balls but you don’t wanna fail the year, you’ll look like an utter tit.**

Mickey knew he was right. He _would_ look like a tit. But there was always plan C.

**[Me – 18:14]  
Could always drop out...**

**[Damon the Shithead – 18:16]  
And be trapped in this shithole for the rest of your life with no exit strategy? We both know that’s not what you want, man.**

Mickey sighed as he unlocked his front door and stepped inside the house. He knew Damon was right. There was absolutely no way he was sticking around to rot in this godforsaken city. He was tired of living in this house with all these memories. Bad memories. He had to get out, and getting good grades and going to college was the only way he saw that happening. The house was dark and silent as Mickey stood in the living room thinking about his shit-storm of a life, until it wasn’t.

“Hey, Mick.” Mickey jumped out of his skin at the voice floating out of the darkness in the house.

“You dick, you scared the shit out of me!” Mickey said to his brother as Colin came lumbering out of his bedroom. “I thought you weren’t coming back ‘till next week?”

Mickey’s older brother’s Joey and Colin had started their own business two years ago. A legit car dealership that involved absolutely no illegal activity whatsoever, and they had made quite a living for themselves. Mickey thought it was a kind of ‘fuck you’ to their dad, proving that you don’t have to be dishonest to make a living, unlike what he always taught them.

Technically the two brothers still lived in the Milkovich family home, but they also had an apartment on the North-side where they spent most of their time. They’d come home for a week or so every couple of months, always leaving Mickey a sum of cash to get him through the weeks when they weren’t there, and Mickey couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it when they visited. It often got lonely, just him alone in the large house.

“We’re not,” Colin said, and Mickey couldn’t help but feel his spirits fall slightly. “I was just in the neighbourhood and thought I’d check up on you, make sure you hadn’t OD’d or been murdered or some shit.” Colin looked uncomfortable, and Mickey wasn’t surprised. They’d never been taught how to aptly show someone that you care about them. Mickey also felt uncomfortable because in return, they’d never been taught how to respond to someone caring about them.

“Uh, thanks man. But I’m fine.” Mickey muttered, walking to the kitchen to make himself a pop-tart. Colin followed him.

“So, how’s like… school and shit?” He asked, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. Sometimes Mickey thought he was a big oversized awkward baby.

“Not too good, man. I just got told that some nerd has to tutor me if I want to pass the year.” There was silence from Colin so Mickey looked at him, only to find him stifling a laugh. “Oh fuck off!” Mickey yelled and Colin lost it. Mickey picked up a cigarette butt that had been abandoned on the counter and chucked it at his head.

After the laughter subsided, Mickey had eaten his pop-tart and was texting Damon. “You done?” He asked his brother without looking up.

“Yep.” Colin said, breathing heavily and clutching his stomach. He walked towards Mickey pulling an envelope out of his pocket as he went, he deposited it on the counter in front of Mickey saying “$400 in there, should get you through until we come back.”

“Thanks, Colin.” Mickey said sincerely, picking the envelope up and reaching for his brother, performing a short, rather awkward man-hug, before Colin was waving goodbye, shouting “And clean this shithole up, you’re living like a hobo!” before exiting the house.

Mickey stayed where he was, sighing as he took in his surroundings. Colin was right, he did need to clean up. The kitchen and living room were an absolute state. The kitchen counters were piled high with dirty dishes and food wrappings, mostly junk food seeing as that was basically what Mickey lived off. Thank fuck for dumbbells and a fast metabolism, or Mickey would be as large as a house.

The living room was even worse. The floor was scattered with magazines, cigarette butts and empty beer cans. There were stains and cigarette burns all over the couch and the whole place reeked of weed. Mickey sighed at the mess before vowing to himself that he would make a start tomorrow. But now, he’d had a long day, and needed to relax.

He made his way through the clutter to his room and flung himself onto his bed, reaching under it to retrieve his age-old laptop from its hiding place. Not that anyone would want to steal the piece of junk, and of course now he was without his siblings, there was really no need to hide it, but old habits die hard Mickey supposed.

When there used to be a full house, everyone had to hide their shit. If Mandy or Iggy got a hold of his laptop, Mickey would bet his life that neither of them would ever give it back. He remembered this one time when they were much younger, Iggy had found Mickey’s Nintendo DS hidden under his pillow. Mickey cried and cried until Iggy gave it back, telling him that ‘this is only a one-time thing, don’t think I’m going soft on you’. He proved his point when he took Mickey’s iPod two months later.

Mickey’s throat got a little tighter as he thought about Iggy. He looked over at his desk and saw the old DS lying on top of it. He was just beginning to feel the familiar prickling sensation at the back of his eyes when suddenly his phone rang. He jumped at the sound, before quickly rubbing his face and answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” the familiar automated voice said. Mickey grinned at the sound. “An inmate from Chicago Juvenile Temporary Detention Centre would like to contact you. Do you accept the call?”

“Yes!” Mickey said immediately, waiting for his favourite person’s voice to float through the earpiece.

“Hey, assface. When are you coming to visit me?”

***

“Gallagher’s your tutor?!” Cole said around the cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“Yep.” Mickey confirmed quietly. Cole and Damon burst into laughter.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up assholes, but I’ll be the one laughing when all you dumb fucks get a C- and I get an A+!”

The group of boys were sitting underneath the bleachers at school, cutting class and smoking. This was a regular occurrence, and they got away with it seeing as no teacher had the balls to question them. (Apart from Mr Pearson, Mickey made sure never to miss one of his classes. All the others were pussies though.)

“I cannot get over this.” Cole was literally rolling around on the floor laughing. Matt was chuckling softly, but this meant that he found the situation truly hilarious, seeing as he doesn’t even crack a smile at something that would usually have someone’s sides splitting with mirth.

Matt was the quiet one. He didn’t talk much, which made him all the more intimidating. The complete opposite to Cole, who had no problem voicing his opinions to everyone and anyone who would listen. Cole was a different type of scary, kind of the psychotic scary. He was basically always on speed, making him endlessly energetic, and giving him this look in his eye that could easily get him carted off to the psych ward. When you didn’t know him and his mannerisms, he was quite unnerving to be around.

Within their little four, they were two pairs. Matt and Cole were best friends, and Mickey and Damon were best friends, and together they formed a group. Everyone was scared shitless of them, and that was just how they liked it. The power you felt when people made way for you in the corridors was incomparable, they all loved it, but Cole more than any of them.

Cole was obsessed with image and reputation, and anything in the way of that had to go. He was the leader of their pack, they all knew it. He loved the spotlight, to be centre-stage, whereas the other three preferred the limelight. It was the perfect arrangement.

Mickey looked at the time and swore. He was going to be late for Pearson’s class. “I gotta run, you comin’ shithead?” Mickey asked Damon.

“Yep, gimme a sec.” He said, gesturing towards his nearly-finished smoke.

“Come on man, I can’t be late he’ll have my ass.” Mickey said agitatedly.

“Isn’t that what you want? Him to have your ass?” Cole teased, and Mickey’s stomach dropped.

“Fuck off man, I ain’t no fag.” Mickey said quickly. The others looked at him wearily.

“I know man, jeez. Chill out.” Cole said, giggling. “With the amount of bashing we’ve done over the years, you’d know what was coming to you if you were a homo, so I believe you. You wouldn’t be that stupid, right Mick?” There was a tense silence. Cole’s eyes were wide, almost manic as Mickey’s heart sped up, and his mouth stopped working.

After a few seconds he managed to get his brain in order. “Well duh?!” He said, giving Cole a look as if he were crazy, and the tension dispersed somewhat. Damon threw his finished smoke on the ground, crushing it beneath his toe. The two boys nodded their goodbyes and set off through the bleachers.

“What was that about?” Damon asked, looking at Mickey with something like concern on his face.

“What was what about?” Mickey asked, feigning ignorance. Damon didn’t reply. Just before they turned the corner onto the school field, Mickey looked back over his shoulder at the two boys they left behind. Cole was watching them go with a strange glint in his eye, a look on his face that would be at home in some psycho-thriller movie. Mickey turned around and carried on walking, putting Cole out of his mind.

The only people who knew Mickey was gay were his family, sans his father, and Mickey wanted to keep it that way. They were quite accepting, but Mickey felt most at home with Mandy. They’d grown up together after all. He could tell her anything, and he still did, only all information had to be passed into a plastic chord-phone through a sheet of shatter-proof glass.

None of Mickey’s friends knew, not even Damon. He _had_ to keep it a secret. If he didn’t, then nothing but shit-storms would follow, and if a couple of fag-bashes meant his secret was safe, then that would be the price he would have to pay. Mickey’s mind jumped to Iggy and he felt sickened with himself.

***

Mickey and Damon were seven minutes late to Mr Pearson’s lesson. He gave them both very disapproving looks as they quietly took their seats, not making eye-contact with the angry teacher.

Mickey got out all his books for the class, before reclining somewhat in his seat, looking out of the window and letting his mind wander. They were studying Yeats, and Mickey didn’t know what the fuck was going on most of the time. It was all very scandalous seeing as Mr Pearson had chosen a poet that wasn’t American. Mickey didn’t really give a shit, because Irish, American, Australian, it made no difference. He still wouldn’t know what the fuck was going on. His mind seemed to forget that he should probably listen so he wouldn’t look dumb in his first tutoring session with the nerd, so he ended up imagining a weird parallel universe where he was a poet too.

He imagined himself in some mansion somewhere in the English countryside, composing poetry out by the lake on his many acres of land, having steamy affairs with the house staff, doing whatever the fuck he wanted.

He’d probably write about either nature or dicks. It kind of appealed to him, although he didn’t think himself clever enough to create all the hidden meanings and shit. Oh well, when he was a poet he’d work it out.

“Mr Milkovich!” Mr Pearson all but yelled, and Mickey was startled out of his reverie. He looked around to see the whole class smirking at him. Damon had his head on the desk, Mickey could see that he was asleep and was instantly annoyed that his friend wasn’t picked on instead.

“What?” Mickey asked, harshly.

“What do you think Yeats is trying to tell us in the last stanza of the poem we’re discussing?” Mickey’s face reddened as he realised he doesn’t even know what poem they’re analysing. And what the fuck was a stanza? He tried to look over at Melissa Reddner’s desk, but the bitch flicked her hair over her work so he couldn’t see the title, smirking all the while. Mickey glared at her but it was too late.

“Do you even have the poem in question in front of you, Mickey?” The disappointment in Pearson’s voice made Mickey sink further down his chair out of guilt and embarrassment. Mr Pearson sighed before turning to someone Mickey couldn’t see in the first row.

“Ian,” Mickey rolled his eyes and barely stifled a groan. “Could you please answer Mr Milkovich’s question for him?”

“Um, well the ‘faery’s’ are trying to persuade this ‘child’ to come with them to another world, because the human world is so awful, hence ‘the world’s full of more weeping than you can understand’. However the last stanza is there to remind the child of the home comforts that he would miss should he go with them. Like the claves lowing on the ‘warm hillside’ and the kettle on the hob, all homely and comforting imagery used to remind us of the good and soothing aspects of our world-“ then the bell rang.

Mickey, who had almost fallen asleep during Gallagher’s long-ass boring explanation of the ‘stanza’ quickly picked up his books and shoved them unceremoniously into his bag before standing up and making his way to the door.

“Hang on, Mickey.” Mickey stopped in his tracks and sighed, closing his eyes before turning around to face Mr Pearson. He waited until all but one student had exited the classroom apart from Mickey before speaking.

“I don’t know if you have met officially-“

“We have.” Ian interrupted, looking at Mickey with something close to complete disinterest on his face. Mickey rolled his eyes before looking at Pearson, waiting for him to continue.

“I thought this would be a good time for you boys to arrange a time for your first session!” Mickey looked at Gallagher and again, waited for someone to speak.

“Um, I can do tomorrow night? After school?” Ian was rummaging in his bag and pulled out a small diary. Mickey snorted and Pearson glared at him.

“Yeah whatever,” Mickey said, “which classroom?” Ian looked to Mr Pearson.

“I’m sorry but you can’t have sessions in the school unless a teacher is running the session.”

“Well you’re not fuckin’ coming to my house, bloodnut.” Ian ran a hand self-consciously through his red hair, and Mickey thought that if Pearson glared at him any harder he’d be permanently stuck like that.

“Okay, you can come to mine, everyone’s out tomorrow anyway. Give me your number and I’ll text you the address.” Mickey snorted again.

“You’re not having my fucking number, what do you think thi-“

“Mickey!” Mr Pearson warned, and Mickey rolled his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time.

They exchanged numbers. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Mickey grunted in assent then turned to leave. “Bye?” Ian called uncertainly after him as he exited the room, Mickey didn’t reply.

“Wow,” Ian said once he was alone with his teacher, “I’ve got my work cut out with this one!”

“That you have, but don’t underestimate him. I think he can do it.” Mr Pearson muttered.

Just outside school, Mickey opened his contacts. Gallagher had saved his number under ‘Ian’, Mickey promptly changed it to ‘matchstick nerd’. In Mickey’s opinion, tomorrow night could be a thousand years from now, and it would still come too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully there will be weekly updates! Thanks for all the support so far peeps xxxx


	3. Chapter 3

Ian sat nervously at the kitchen table, his notes laid out in front of him, awaiting Mickey’s arrival for their first session. Well, he had been nervously waiting half an hour ago. They had agreed for Mickey to be at Ian’s at 7pm, it was now 7.20 and there was still no sign of the thug. Ian had half a mind to text Mickey, telling him to go fuck himself and that he didn’t deserve his help. He was reaching for his phone to do just that when his back door was all but kicked open.

  
Ian jumped out of his skin as Mickey swaggered into the house, Ian self-consciously followed the blue eyed boy’s gaze as he gave the house a once-over. He looked calm as ever, as though he’d turned up right on time, not twenty minutes late.

  
“Where have you been? We agreed 7.” Ian said angrily as Mickey walked further into the room and plopped himself down into one of the dining-room chairs.

  
“Had shit to do.” Mickey said matter-of-factly. Ian rolled his eyes and rifled through some of his notes while Mickey sat watching him, already looking completely and utterly bored.

  
“Do you have any poems that particularly need work?” Ian asked Mickey, looking at the darker haired boy expectantly.

  
“I don’t know, man. Like, all of them?” Ian gave Mickey a deadpan look.

  
“Have you even looked at any of his poems? At all?” He looked at Mickey, for the first time noticing the complete lack of material he’d bought with him to the session. “Did you even bring a pen?”

  
Mickey avoided Ian’s eye, tapping his fingernails onto the wooden table making an annoying sound. They stayed like that for a whole minute. Ian looking at Mickey like he was the most aggravating human being on the planet, and Mickey looking right back at him, silently daring him to tell him to stop.

  
About thirty seconds into this whole staring contest, Ian noticed Mickey really did have lovely eyes, they were so blue. And in return, Mickey wondered if there was an inch on Gallagher’s body that wasn’t covered with freckles. Mickey could think of exactly one place that may be devoid, and immediately felt his face heat up. Gallagher was looking at him very intently, it made him somewhat uncomfortable. What the fuck was happening?

  
He looked away. The whole situation had suddenly become very intense, and Mickey didn’t like the way Gallagher had been looking at him. He could almost feel him smirking as Mickey stopped tapping and stared somewhere just above Ian’s right shoulder.

  
“Right then.” Ian said, as though nothing had happened. “We’ll start with Broken Dreams.”

  
The session, in Mickey’s opinion, was hell on earth. But not for the reasons he expected. He had imagined that the whole time, Gallagher would be a shivering leaf of nerves and fear around him, and they wouldn’t get anything done, which would truly be a waste of Mickey’s time. But on the contrary, Ian was completely un-phased by his presence. He didn’t let Mickey’s reputation or complete indifference to the subject put him off, and Mickey had to admire that slightly, though he would deny he felt anything but contempt towards the redhead if anyone asked.

  
No, the reason Mickey hated it was because by the end of the session he was no closer to understanding anything than he was before he’d turned up. And the annoying thing was that he actually listened. Though he made no effort to contribute or ask Gallagher questions, he actually had listened and tried to understand what he was talking about in fucking Broken Dreams or whatever. Something just wasn’t clicking, and that made him angry.

  
“We done?” Mickey asked at exactly 8pm, Ian having just finished reading out his notes on the last line of the poem. Ian heaved a deep sigh and looked at Mickey as though he were a troublesome toddler.

  
“I guess.” Ian said, stacking his notes and putting them back into his large leaver arch file. However he produced - seemingly out of nowhere - a plastic file with what looked like all the poems they were studying inside. “Just… try to look over the poem at some point, try and remember what we discussed about it.”

  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever Gallagher.” Mickey said, taking the file all the same. He opened the door, shutting it behind him and racing down the back steps of Ian’s house without looking back. When he had run a little way down the street he stopped, putting his hands on his knees then let out a similar yell of frustration to the one outside his English classroom, still clutching the file of paper. Back on the steps up to his back door, Ian stood watching the thug, holding back a snigger as he saw him yell in the middle of the road.

  
However, he felt bad. He knew how hard it was, how frustrating when you just didn’t get a subject. Mickey may have been giving it the good old I-don’t-care act, but Ian could tell he was listening, and he felt a little more sympathy towards the Milkovich than he did an hour ago. He watched Mickey run until he turned the corner at the end of the street, before re-entering the house to make himself some food.

  
Back at the Milkovich house, Mickey stayed up ‘till well past midnight, pouring over the poem and making notes on everything he could remember Gallagher mentioning.

  
***

  
By the end of Mickey’s third English session, Ian was feeling a lot less sympathetic towards Mickey than he did after their first. The whole ‘I don’t want to act like I care but I’m listening’ thing was cute to begin with, but Ian really needed those credits, and if Mickey didn’t start telling him when he didn’t understand something he could kiss them goodbye.

  
“So did you get what I meant about Yeats being confused?” They were studying ‘The Cold Heaven’, one of the shortest Yeats poems and Mickey hadn’t said a word for twenty minutes. Ian tried again. “How can we tell he’s confused?”

  
Mickey was silent for a minute, and Ian was just about to give up all fucking hope when he spoke. “’Cause it doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense?” Ian looked at Mickey, surprised.

  
“Yeah!” Ian said, and Mickey looked up at him, a shock evident on his face. “That’s right! We can tell Yeats is confused because of the vague nature of the poem, aka it doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Ian smiled at Mickey and he saw Mickey’s lips turn up ever so slightly, and he straightened up somewhat in his seat. He left that session feeling a little more confident, and that night he was able to make just as many notes as Ian had on his own poem.

  
However by the fifth session, he was actually losing hope.

  
“I just don’t fucking get it, man!” Mickey exclaimed, angrily. Running a hand through his hair and bending over the poem in front of him, as though his physical proximity to the page would make a difference in his understanding. Ian thought it was endearing, however he pushed that thought out of his head as soon as it came. He did not find Mickey Milkovich cute.

  
“I don’t understand how it’s ‘romantic’, he doesn’t mention sex or women or anything!” Even over the last few sessions, Mickey had let his guard down slightly in front of the redhead. Ian wouldn’t consider them friends, or anything close to it, especially when Mickey ignores him at school and has never called him by his first name. But all the same, Ian was not remotely scared of the dark-haired boy agonising over Yeats in front of him, if anything his opinion of him had gotten better, he may act like a douche at school, but these sessions had shown Ian that Mickey wasn’t always as tough as he made out. As Ian regarded Mickey huffing and puffing in frustration at ‘The Cat and the Moon’, Ian knew most of it was a façade.

  
“Let’s take a break.” Ian suggested, as it looked as though Mickey was close to pulling his hair out. Mickey sighed and shut his file of poems Ian had given him, which he was pleased to see had been kept in almost pristine condition. Mickey lit a cigarette and slumped back in his chair. They were silent for a minute or two.

  
“So where’s like, your family and shit?” Mickey asked the redhead, he was slumped in his chair with his eyes closed as he smoked. He looked so tired. Ian almost forgot to speak out of shock at the fact that Mickey was asking him something about himself.

  
“Um, Fiona is at work. She just got a new job and works long hours. My brother Lip is at college-“

  
“I know Lip.” Mickey randomly interjected, his eyes still closed. Ian thought he’d add to the statement but he remained silent. Ian shook his head at Mickey for a second, a bemused look on his face before continuing.

  
“Yeah anyway, Lip’s at college. My younger sister Debbie is obsessed with college at the moment, already stacking up extra-curricula’s for her applications.” Mickey snorted but Ian ignored him. “Carl is always out doing god knows what, and my baby brother Liam goes with Fiona to work.”

  
“Parents?” Mickey asked, opening his eyes to look at Ian when he didn’t respond immediately.

  
“They’re um… They’re dead.” Ian said awkwardly, avoiding Mickey’s eye. He hated the pity party that always got thrown for him and his siblings when he told someone they were all orphans. He realised a second too late that he should never have expected pity from Mickey Milkovich.

  
“Sucks.” Mickey said flatly, opening his eyes to look at Ian. “Mine’s in the slammer, doing twenty to life, he might as well be dead too.” Ian almost gasped in shock at how blasé Mickey was being.

  
“Why, what did he do? Don’t you ever visit him?”

  
Ian knew a second too late that he had crossed an invisible line. Where Mickey had looked relaxed but tired a second ago, the light seemed to leave his eyes for a second as he stared at nothing.

  
Ian waited for the explosion, the yell, the punch, whatever was coming for him trying to delve too far into Mickey’s personal life, but it never came.

  
“It’s 8, I gotta go.” Mickey suddenly said, as though nothing had happened. “I’ll make notes on this tonight.” And before Ian could speak, Mickey had gone. His cigarette butt still smoking in the ash tray. Ian sat still in his wake, cursing himself.

  
He always forgot that not everyone was as open as him. Just about anyone could ask him just about anything about his life, and he would happily tell them. Not everyone was so trusting. He had a long way to go with Mickey before anything like that was exchanged from Mickey’s end, but Ian found himself wanting to know. He wanted to know about Mickey, about his life. But Ian supposed he might as well try to draw blood from a stone.

  
***

A couple of sessions later the boys’ relationship hadn’t really changed. Strictly professional. Any time Ian came close to asking a question in any way related to Mickey’s personal life, the dark haired boy shot him down immediately, and Ian was getting frustrated. Mickey’s mysterious demeanour only made Ian want to know more about him. However that wouldn’t happen anytime soon if Mickey had anything to say about it, so Ian focused on the tutoring. 

Mickey was continuing to unexpectedly understand concepts of the literary techniques and language Yeats used in his poetry, but seemingly always by mistake. He didn’t seem to be really trying, and Ian was losing his patience. 

“How can we tell that Yeats fears death?” Ian asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes and putting a hand through his hair. Mickey just wasn’t helping him out at all, and him mind kept on reluctantly jumping to the extra credits he wouldn’t get if Mickey didn’t pass the class. 

“I don’t know.” Mickey replied, a bored look on his face staring at his fingers as they tapped rhythms out on the table top. In that moment Ian had had enough. He jumped up from his chair at the tiny dining table and slammed his fist onto it in front of Mickey’s face, making the thug jump and move his chair away slightly, eyes wide. 

“Listen to me,” Ian said, closing in around Mickey, their faces inches apart. “I need the credits that you passing this class will get me to apply to college. And if you don’t at least fucking try, I definitely won’t get them, and I’ll never get out of this shithole of a neighbourhood and I will make your life a misery.” Ian was breathing hard, Mickey could feel it on his face. The thug said nothing, and Ian began to notice their proximity, and the way the dark haired boy was looking at him with those big, blue eyes… an unreadable expression. Had Ian imagined it, or had Mickey’s eyes flicked to his lips? 

Ian mentally shook himself, but stood his ground. “Got it?” Ian said into the thick, unknown tension surrounding the two boys.

Was it animosity, or awkwardness? Or… something else. Mickey stayed silent for a second longer before replacing the strange expression on his face with a smirk. 

“Yep.” He finally said, and Ian let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. Slowly, Ian backed away, letting himself fall back into his seat as Mickey pulled his chair back in front of the table. He gave Ian a weary but thoughtful look as he shuffled his papers and said confidently:

“We can tell Yeats is afraid of death because of the semantic field of fear, darkness and negativity he’s created throughout the poem. He has done this by using words such as misery, fright and blackness.”

Ian looked at Mickey in absolute disbelief as he rattled off an answer that would look at home in a text book. He stayed silent for a minute before leaning over and punching Mickey hard on the shoulder, repeatedly. 

“Ow! The fuck you doin’ Gallagher?!” Mickey complained as the ginger continued to punch him anywhere on the thug’s body he could reach, while the darker haired boy valiantly attempted to fend him off. 

Soon enough they tumbled to the floor, Mickey finally gaining the upper hand when he put Ian into a headlock, but Ian slipped out of it by elbowing him in the stomach and turning, but Mickey pushed him onto his back and straddled Ian’s shoulders. 

They were both laughing, but they stopped in unison, seemingly having noticed the position they were now in. Both breathing heavily they looked into each other’s eyes, and Ian felt something in the atmosphere change. He became hot all of a sudden, the look Mickey was giving him was very intense. And before he could stop himself, Ian reached over Mickey’s leg and grabbed his dick through his pants and Mickey gasped. Ian wasn’t sure if it was out of pleasure or surprise. 

However a split second later, Ian’s hand was being ripped away from Mickey’s crotch as the shorter boy was heaving himself off Ian and hurriedly packing up all his notes from the table. Ian lifted himself off the floor and walked up behind Mickey. He visibly flinched and stepped away from Ian, avoiding his eye as Ian held his hands up in mock surrender.  
A few seconds later Mickey had bolted out of the door like a bat out of hell, and Ian sat down at the little dining table and tried to work out what the fuck had just happened. 

Had he imagined the lust in Mickey’s eyes? Ian hadn’t had time to feel if Mickey’s dick was hard, it all happened so fast. Mickey’s reaction couldn’t help but imply that he was not into it, but Ian could have sworn he felt the very air change when Mickey looked at him. His musings were interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. Ian found himself hoping it was Mickey, but alas. 

**[N – 20:24]  
Where are you? Bed’s getting cold, I’m thinking about starting without you… ;)**

Ian groaned, he hadn’t realised how late it was, he was meant to be on the North-side twenty-five minutes ago. He quickly grabbed his coat and headed out of the door, grabbing his bicycle and pedalling as fast as he could along the familiar route to the Drake Hotel and the penthouse that waited him there.

***

Back on the Southside, Mickey wandered an also familiar path he’d taken many times before. He didn’t even have to think about it anymore, it was as if his feet just knew where to go and carried him there. 

What had happened back there with Gallagher anyway? Why hadn’t Mickey socked him right then and there for daring to even think about his dick let alone fucking grab it? But Mickey knew why he hadn’t, and he groaned at the reluctant admission. 

He hadn’t really minded. And that scared Mickey, a lot. It was risky enough having the odd hook up in Boystown to take the edge off, to satisfy his needs, but wanting someone who he knew? Who went to school with him? That was bad. But he wanted Gallagher… Bad. 

It took the incident which had just occurred to force Mickey to admit to himself what he’d been denying ever since his first session with the kid, he was hot for Gallagher. The questions he had first asked himself regarding Ian’s sexuality had of course been answered when he went for the jugular back there, but there were still a ton of reasons as to why it would be a bad idea to come onto Gallagher. 

If he so much as tossed him off Gallagher had the power to ruin his whole reputation, and his life to some extent. And Mickey didn’t know if he was ready to take that kind of risk on a speckly little ginger kid who was tutoring him fucking English. All he knew is that he needed to tell someone, someone who wouldn’t judge him… Give him some comfort.

His hand opened the gate without him telling it to, and within no time he was at his destination. He visited Iggy often, but not enough. 

His brother’s grave was devoid of flowers, but cigarette butts, lighters and two empty spirit bottles lay dropped haphazardly around the headstone, probably all Mickey’s. A lot of people would have found the display disrespectful, but Mickey thought it was what Iggy would have wanted. He’d always hated tidying up, organisation, and Mickey thought this was the best way to remember that. Fuck what anyone else thought. It never got cleared away, there was no one assigned to keep the graveyard in order, everything of value, even the flowers just got stolen anyway. People stopped bringing them in the end.

Mickey sat on the worn patch of grass in front of Iggy’s grave and rested his back against the headstone. He always told Iggy his problems, he was a good listener. Mickey chuckled as he thought it. 

He wasted no time in lighting up a cigarette, and beginning to talk about his day, and the Gallagher dilemma he was now facing. He couldn’t think of anyone else he would rather tell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Tuesdays are coming along quick these days...
> 
> P.S. AO3 was being annoying today so sorry for the slightly weird layout!
> 
> P.P.S. Chapters are gonna get a lot longer from now on - I've been looking at my plan and I still have a shit load to write. Hope this is good news lol


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, here marks the start of the longer chapters (for anyone who missed the message chapters are going to be a lot longer now seeing as I have a lot left to write and don't want you guys to have to wait weeks upon weeks for the story to unfold). Hope everyone is still enjoying (assuming that everyone enjoyed in the first place...)!

“So how’s it going with the asshole?” Ian didn’t even register the question until Craig was waving his hand in front of his face.

“Huh?” The redhead asked, wakened out of his stupor. Ian, Craig, Melissa and Jade were all sat at their usual table in the school’s large library in their free period, working hard or in Ian’s case, hardly working. He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, or nearly happened with Mickey at their last session. Melissa told Ian that she could feel the stress radiating off him like heat, and he didn’t correct her when she stated that ‘exams have that effect on everyone’. They didn’t need to know about his teeny tiny crush on Mickey, not like anything would come of it.

They hadn’t seen or even spoke to each other since the other night, seeing as Mickey was ignoring all Ian’s efforts to arrange another session and Ian was getting worried. What if Mickey refused to be tutored by him? Ian told himself this thought upset him because it meant Mickey would fail the year and Ian would lose his credits, but he knew that now… he’d be upset about not seeing Mickey just as much.

Ian mentally smacked himself in the face as he thought it. Mickey had never even addressed him in public let alone be nice to him. But Ian, being Ian had been sucked into the whole mysterious bad-boy demeanour. The difference was that Mickey had never been willing to open up, to even be friends. He was always going to remain a mysterious bad-boy, and Ian couldn’t change that. His heart reluctantly sank.

“I asked how it was going with Milkovich.” Craig said, smirking at Ian’s away-with-the-fairies expression.

“Don’t even ask, man.” Ian said, groaning and letting his head fall onto his arms which were placed on the table in front of him.

“Keep pushing, man.” Craig said encouragingly, patting Ian on the back. “You always knew he was going to be a handful. I believe in you bro.” Ian smirked and swatted Craig’s hand away. There had been a time when Ian was completely head over heels for Craig. With his big blue eyes and sandy brown hair, Ian used to fantasise about them being together, Craig suddenly coming out and confessing his everlasting love for him. Now however, said redhead cringed at the thought of him and Craig being anything more than friends, and he preferred it that way. Less… complicated. Although Ian seemed to have the hots for complicated as of late.

He was again awakened from his stewing by his phone vibrating in his pocket. He expected a text from Ned asking to meet that evening or some shit. What he hadn’t been expecting was a text from Mickey, that was for sure, but there he was.

**[Mickey M – 11:09]  
Tonight, usual time, your place. **

Ian stared at the text for a solid 10 seconds before internally screaming and cursing the world for its bad timing.

**[Me – 11:10]  
Can’t tonight, got work from 6-10. **

What if he just blew it? What if that was his last chance? Ian groaned out loud, earning strange looks from all three of his friends sat around him, thinking that he could have easily texted Kash asking for a shift change. It would have been so easy and yet the damage had been done, the text had been sent. All he could do now was wait for Mickey’s reply, or lack thereof.

He so badly wanted to tell the others about what was happening, but he knew they would just judge him, never approve. Especially Melissa, Ian didn’t think she would ever forgive him for having feelings for someone who beat her little brother to a pulp.

So he suffered in silence for about fifteen more minutes, each second being torture, until finally he felt his phone vibrate. His heart-rate sped up slightly as he opened the message.

**[Mickey M – 11:26]  
Guess I’ll see you at yours at 10.30 then. **

Ian’s eyes widened and he took a cautious look around him for nothing in particular before stifling a smile and replying.

***

**[Matchstick Nerd – 11:27]  
See you then**

Mickey didn’t know what had made him arrange to meet up, and so late at night. Gallagher would definitely get the wrong idea. Or was that the idea that Mickey wanted Ian to get? He sighed and put his head in his hands. This was all so confusing.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Damon giving him a somewhat concerned look.

“You okay bro?”

“Yeah man,” Mickey said. He and Damon were smoking a joint underneath the bleachers waiting for Cole and Matt to arrive from calculus. “Just this English thing is stressing me out.”

“You sure that’s it? Seems like there’s something else on your mind.”

And for a split second, Mickey was going to tell him. He was going to tell him everything. That he was gay, that he had been since he could remember and that he thought he had the hots for Gallagher. He opened his mouth to speak and Damon was looking at him expectantly, but at that moment in his peripheral vision, Mickey saw Cole and Matt turn the corner and all thought of confession fled from his mind.

“Nah that’s it, man. Just really wanna get out of this shithole.” Mickey avoided Damon’s curious gaze, but felt it on him until he left the bleachers.

***

It was safe to say that Mickey was nervous as fuck as he carried his notes up the stairs to the Gallagher’s back door. It took him a whole thirty seconds to make himself knock on it, and yet he needn’t have been worried, seeing as it went unanswered.

Mickey looked through the tiny window by the door but saw nothing and no one. Ian probably wasn’t back from work yet, and Mickey found himself yet again wondering where the fuck all his family were and if he’d ever meet any of them, there were like a billion of them after all. So he took a seat on the top step, lit a cigarette and fished his phone out of his pocket for the time.

It was 10:34. Gallagher shouldn’t be more than ten minutes, he could wait that long.

At 11:02 Mickey was freezing his balls off and beginning to lose patience. It was the middle of October for Christ’s sake. He was just about to pack up shop and leave when he heard running footsteps approaching from the darkness. His first instinct was to hide or grab some sort of weapon from somewhere, but he knew who it was.

And sure enough, not five seconds later, Gallagher emerged from the darkness huffing and puffing, slowing to a walk as he entered the yard through the open gate. Then he spotted Mickey and jumped out of his fucking skin. Mickey stifled a laugh.

“Oh my fucking god, Mickey. You scared the living shit out of me!” He put his hands on his knees so he was bent forward as he fought to catch his breath. Mickey opened his mouth to speak but Gallagher held up a finger, signifying to give him a minute. Mickey ignored it.

“I ain’t waiting any longer, man. I’ve been here for half an hour already!” Ian straightened up.

“I’m sorry, man. I thought you would have left by now. I probably would have…” Ian knew it was a lie, but Mickey didn’t need to know that he probably would have been calling his cell worried about him for hours. “Do you still want to come in? Or-“but Mickey interrupted him.

“Hang on, if you didn’t think I was going to be here… Why were you running?” Ian’s eyes widened at the question, and Mickey couldn’t help but be intrigued. A few seconds of silence followed where Ian tried to work out the best way to tell Mickey that he _had_ to run to get the feel of Kash off of his skin.

“Work just… stresses me out, that’s all. Endorphins, you know?” Mickey smirked, seemingly buying the story.

“Nah man, I prefer carcinogens to endorphins.” Ian smirked, which quickly turned to a giggle which immediately turned to a full belly laugh. Mickey was somewhat proud of himself, and he also found himself loving the sound of Gallagher’s laugh.

When Ian’s laughing fit subsided the boys fell into a semi-awkward silence, Ian broke it.

“So you wanna come in? Have you got all your stuff?” Mickey nodded, standing up and gesturing at his file of notes. “Cool.” Ian said, looking at Mickey in a way that sent butterflies to his stomach. He mentally slapped himself. _Get a fucking grip!_

They entered the house, sat at the dining table and proceeded with their usual routine. Just… studying. Mickey didn’t really know why he expected this time to be different. Maybe Gallagher was just trying to forget what almost happened, but Mickey could now safely say that _he_ didn’t want to.

Come twelve, Mickey was getting restless. Why was Gallagher acting so… normal? Then he realised, he hadn’t given him a reason to act otherwise. He’d practically run out of the house that night, then didn’t contact him for days afterwards… He must have thought that _Mickey_ wanted to forget it had happened… How had it taken him this long to realise something so simple?

He just needed to wait for the opportunity to present itself. Then he would make a move.

“Hey um, I’ve been meaning to say…” Mickey started. Ian looked up from his notes expectantly, giving Mickey his full attention. “I’ve written an essay.”

Ian looked shocked to say the least, but he waited for Mickey to continue. “I was wondering if you could take a quick look at it?” Ian looked delighted.

“Yeah! Where is it? I’ll do it right now.” Mickey handed over the shabby essay he’d taken six hours to attempt to write. He watched Ian start to read the first page and started having a mini, silent panic attack. He knew it was bad. Ian hadn’t even suggested he write any essays yet, he clearly wasn’t ready. _Oh god it’s too late now_ he thought as Ian read it, making notes and annotations here and there, his brow furrowed all the while.

They sat there in silence for at least fifteen minutes, and Mickey was going out of his mind. In the end he just closed his eyes and sank back in his seat. _I don’t care what I get_ he told himself over and over again. _I don’t care what I get, I don’t care what I get._

“Mickey,” Ian said, breaking the darker haired boy out of his reverie. “This essay is out of 50, and you got around 15.” Mickey felt his heart sink to somewhere around his navel. He cleared his throat and chuckled, attempting in vain to laugh it off.

“Oh well, first one! Knew I was gonna get shit anyway…” He sighed, trying to hide his disappointment but Ian was looking at him curiously.

“Mickey, that’s ten marks away from a C-“

Mickey stayed stock still, trying to process what Gallagher had just said. He was ten marks away from a pass. Ten, measly little marks away from graduating the year, and (Mickey hated that his mind immediately jumped to it) getting Gallagher his extra credits.

Slowly, a smile broke out onto Mickey’s face as the news properly set in. They’d only been at this a month, and he was already two marks away from a pass. Before he could stop himself he jumped up out of his seat (he had to stop himself from punching the air), and Ian came with him, grinning like mad. He punched Mickey none too lightly on the shoulder, before enveloping him in a hug. Mickey returned it without hesitation, they stayed like that for a few seconds, before Mickey realised that this was the opportunity he had been waiting for.

In that moment, he felt like he could do anything. He felt no nervousness or awkwardness when he leant back from Ian, not releasing him, and ran his hand down the redhead’s stomach until he reached the top of his jeans. He left his hand lingering there.

Ian was looking right into his eyes, they were so close and Mickey was starting to feel uncomfortable, as if Gallagher was reading his mind or seeing into his soul or some shit. The adrenaline he had been feeling was seeping away and nerves began replacing it. What if he did something wrong? What if Gallagher laughed at him? What if this was all just a joke…

He pushed those thoughts away. _You’re a Milkovich. You can do this._ His mind jumped to Terry, how much he would hate it if he saw Mickey doing this, the look on his face, and without further ado Mickey quickly undid Ian’s jeans and shoved his hands down his pants.

Ian gasped as the shorter boy grabbed his dick and started jacking it, hard and fast. Ian could feel Mickey’s breath on his face and had to remind himself that this was real, this was happening. He wanted to kiss him, badly. He leant forwards a fraction but Mickey turned his head so it was resting on Ian’s shoulder as he continued his ministrations. Oh well, Ian was always up for a challenge.

He mirrored Mickey’s actions and leant his head on the dark haired boy’s shoulder before reaching down to undo his jeans.

Gallagher’s hand was cold on his dick, but hell if Mickey didn’t enjoy it. He gasped when he felt it, jerking the redhead even harder, hoping he would get the message. He did. It was exactly the way Mickey liked it, hard and fast. Ian had one hand on his ass, the other sliding up and down his shaft, pausing to rub the tip with his thumb causing Mickey to moan out loud. Ian chuckled and did it again.

They continued like this for around ten minutes. Mickey was afraid that it was going to get awkward, that Ian would remember who he was and shove Mickey off him, but it didn’t happen.

“I’m close.” Ian whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“Same.” Mickey replied, redoubling his efforts to send Ian over the edge. Gallagher came first, moaning Mickey’s name into his shoulder, and that was it for Mickey. He shuddered through his orgasm but stayed put. Breathing heavily into the taller boy’s shoulder.

Before long, Ian was moving away from Mickey, leaving him hot and dishevelled with his pants undone in the middle of the kitchen. Ian got some kitchen roll from one of the cupboards and handed it to Mickey to clean himself up with. Mickey took it, avoiding Ian’s gaze. An awkward silence followed.

“So…” Ian finally said, and Mickey looked up at him. But before he could continue the boys heard the front door open, and two voices babbling, entering the house. Ian’s eyes were wide as Mickey’s head snapped towards the sound.

“Iaaaan, are you home? I need help, Carl’s drunk!” Ian turned to the living room as Debbie’s voice rang out. They soon came into view, Carl leaning on his older sister as he stumbled towards Ian. The redhead turned to apologise to Mickey for the interruption, but he was gone. All his notes, pens and his marked essay had disappeared from the table and the back door had been left open, letting in a cold breeze. Ian sighed, a small part of him knew this would happen, but it still stung.

“You okay, buddy?” Ian asked Carl as he was deposited onto him by Debbie.

“I’m fine!” Carl slurred. He then scrunched up his face before saying “It smells like come in here.”

“Time for bed!” Ian said loudly, even as Debbie gave him a half-disgusted, half-curious look.

_Fuck sake_ , Ian thought _the one time my family’s actually home is the one time I absolutely don’t want them here._

***

Ian was feeling that familiar creeping sensation of stress enveloping his brain. He hadn’t heard from Mickey since their first encounter the other night, and Fiona arriving home to find Carl being violently sick into the downstairs toilet had not helped the situation in the slightest. She was absolutely furious, and with Carl unable to string a sentence together, Ian had taken her wrath. Had she not have been ripping him to shreds with talk of responsibility and adulthood Ian would have told her she was somewhat overreacting, but right then did not seem the best time to criticise her judgement as their guardian.

After Frank and Monica had kicked the bucket, she had claimed legal guardian over all the kids, including Lip and Ian who now resented the authority. At the time they were young, their parents had just died and it felt reassuring and safe to have a firm and reliable presence in the house. They knew what to do and when to do it. That feeling soon wore off.

Lip especially felt caged, he couldn’t have gone to college fast enough. Ian however, was still under the jurisdiction of his often-overbearing older sister. He often rang Lip to rant about Fiona and her most recent power-trip, although he wasn’t much help. Ian always gathered the distinct impression that now he personally didn’t have to follow Fiona’s rules, he couldn’t give a shit.

So Ian often felt alone. With a rather significant age gap between him and Debbie and an older brother who thought he was above his little high-schooler brother, quite a lot of the time he didn’t really have anyone to talk to about his life at home. He didn’t want to unload on Debbie or Carl, because however controlling Fiona could be, he didn’t want to turn anyone against her, she was his sister after all. The obvious option was to talk to his friends, but Ian didn’t want to burden them and sometimes the loneliness was too much to handle. So Ian turned to poetry. It was his absolute passion. There was nothing in this world he could think of wanting to do more than study and analyse poem after poem after poem.

Sometimes he got so sad, for no reason. Sometimes things just didn’t click for him, it was as if he was watching someone else live his life, the real him being subjected to living in some sort of fog. Everything, his friends, family, future, it all seemed unclear, like someone was making all the decisions for him and he was just along for the ride. Like he had no control. Poetry calmed him, bought him back to earth. Reminded his that it this was his life, and he could do whatever he chose with it.

In Ian’s eyes there was nothing more relaxing than pouring over a poem and working out all its themes and inner meanings. Whenever he was agitated or just needed a break from his own life he would get out one of his favourite poems and read through them, going over the cryptic analogies he knew off by heart. Ian wanted to see Mickey, but if he was perfectly honest he also wanted the excuse to get stuck in some really hard poems that he loved the just decode. He also may have missed the uncouth blue-eyed boy… If only a little bit.

It was a Saturday, when Ian was in his bedroom watching Liam while Fiona went to her second job at the diner, when he decided to make the first move. After 4 torturous days he shot off a text to Mickey, asking to meet for another session. He really shouldn’t have been missing Mickey at all. Yes, there was endless amounts of sexual tension and he felt himself getting a little hot around the collar whenever he thought of Mickey’s hand sliding down his stomach but they were still nowhere near friends, he’d spoken to him for the first fucking time a month and a half ago. Hell, the encounter may have been a one-off and Mickey could be laughing to himself about it right that second. Ian hated that he knew he would be rather put out if the latter were true. His heart sped up as he pressed send, and immediately wondered if Mickey had received it yet.

***

Mickey _did_ receive Ian’s text, about 10 seconds after it had been sent. He was at the Milkovich abode with Damon, getting high and playing video games, a typical Saturday for Mickey, when his phone vibrated. He felt himself going red and stifling a tiny smile when he saw the contact **Matchstick Nerd** appear on the screen. He would have to watch the whole white-girl-giggling-at-crush’s-text thing, no way could he risk his group finding out, not even Damon. He gave Damon a quick glance before sending a one-handed sloppily written reply to Ian’s request for a session.

**[Me – 14:37]  
Your place at 7?**

Gallagher only took about three fucking seconds to reply, Mickey smirked as his phone chimed.

**[Matchstick Nerd – 14:37]  
Okay, do you want dinner?**

Mickey stared at his phone for a second. What the fuck did Gallagher think this was going to be? All the same he waited a justifiable amount of time to reply… Thirty seconds, he waited for thirty seconds.

**[Me – 14:38]  
Nah **

**[Matchstick Nerd – 14:38]  
Good because I only have enough for me and I’m not sharing**

Mickey raised his eyebrows and chuckled. He paused before making a snap decision, he sent Ian a text before quickly putting his phone down, heart beating hard.

**[Me – 14:38]  
Anyone else gonna be home? **

Mickey nearly got himself shot in Call of Duty in his hastiness to unlock his phone when it vibrated.

**[Matchstick Nerd – 14:39]  
No, why?**

Mickey only smirked, sending off a quick reply before turning his attention back fully to the screen in front of him.

***

**[Mickey – 14:40]  
See ya later, Gallagher. **

Ian raised his eyebrows at the text, reading the word about ten times before locking his phone and throwing it on his bed. What did this mean? Was tonight going to be a tutoring session or a hook up? Why would he care if anyone else was in the house? Well judging by the way he reacted when they’d last been interrupted Ian could safely say he felt more at ease when it was just the two of them (Ian felt his heart somewhat swell with pride).

Ian heaved a deep sigh and subconsciously prevented Liam from swallowing a battery, whilst concluding that he’d just have to wait for tonight to determine the outcome of their session.

***

Mickey’s heart was beating fast as he ascended the steps at the back of the Gallagher’s house. He didn’t know what to expect, but deep down he knew what he wanted to happen. His heart beat impossibly faster with excitement, nerves and anticipation to what would happen between him and his tutor in the next approximately 15 minutes.

For a split second he imagined various bizarre scenarios as he walked seemingly in slow motion up the last couple of steps, like Ian opening the door stark bollock naked with a perfected ‘come hither’ look, or opening the door and pouncing on Mickey before he had a chance to speak, or opening the door and dragging Mickey into the house by the waistband of his jeans, eyes dark and lustful.

It was safe to say the feeling of excitement and anticipation dimmed somewhat when the man of the moment opened the door with a piece of toast in his mouth, beer in his hand and crumbs all down his front.

“Hey” Ian said in a muffled voice through his toast, turning around and leaving the door open for Mickey to walk through.

“Hey” Mickey said back, trying to hide his disappointment at the sight of Ian moving to sit at the little kitchen table which was cluttered with sheets, books and notes. He took a seat, delicately placing his own file of notes atop the mess of Ian’s. “I uh… Did another essay” Mickey mumbled, opening the file and drawing out a couple of pieces of paper messily folded at the corner by means of a staple. Ian smiled wearily and took the essay, dug out a pencil from the avalanche of paper and began marking.

Mickey waited with baited breath as Ian carefully read through each line of his messy scrawl, writing a small comment here, circling something there, brow furrowed all the while, toast forgotten amid the mess of paper around him. After about 10 minutes Ian finished reading and circled a final mark and grade at the bottom of the page. Mickey barely waited a second before quickly grabbing the essay off the table. He looked at the mark and felt his mood elevate marginally. He looked up at Ian expectantly, ready for the praise the redhead would undoubtedly give him.

However Ian was staring into space, having seemingly forgotten about Mickey all together.

“20,” Mickey said unsurely, “5 more than last time? Only 5 away from a pass, I’m halfway there… right?” Ian seemed to break out of a reverie, looking at Mickey like he had indeed only just noticed him.

“Yeah, Mickey it’s great!” He was smiling, but his eyes looked distant, as if he was there in body but not in spirit. Ian didn’t know what had happened. He was fine, not 4 hours ago he was nervously but excitedly scrutinising what would happen with his student in their session, then suddenly he found himself in that place. The place he fucking hated. He was trying to pull himself out of it, he had a job to do, Mickey was here now, but he just couldn’t seem to concentrate on what he needed to do, until someone spoke.

“You okay, man?” And it was like a switch went off in Ian’s brain at the sound of those three words coming out of Mickey’s mouth and the result was almost instantaneous. He felt himself wanting to answer the older boy, felt himself slowly emerging from the murky waters of his brain. And he realised – he couldn’t remember the last time someone actually asked if he was okay. No one ever noticed him. No one ever cared.

“Yes,” Ian said quietly, however he repeated the word with more vigour and confidence. “Yes. I am.” Mickey was looking at Ian with a strange look on his face, and Ian panicked for a split second, he fucking knew this shit would scare Mickey off. He was too crazy for anyone to deal with, especially the neighbourhood thug who was possibly using him for sex. However a second later Mickey shrugged his shoulders and started reading over Ian’s corrections to his essay.

“Sorry,” Ian started, but the darker haired boy’s eyes didn’t move from his paper. “I’m just really tired, you know? It’s tough, looking after the kids all the time, picking up Fiona’s slack.” Mickey grunted in reply while he continued to analyse his corrections. Ian wondered if he would pay attention to anything he said right now, and felt a sudden sense of reckless abandonment.

“Yeah I mean, Fiona’s been so good with everything. Taking my child, Liam, in and raising him as her own. I’ll never know how to repay her.” Mickey noticed nothing, and Ian was biting his lip to prevent himself from laughing out loud.

“And there was that time that my whole family protected me from the police when I mugged a North-side business man for meth-money.” Still nothing. Ian was ready to piss himself laughing as the older boy burned holes in his essay. Ian didn’t even really know what he was saying anymore, just talking utter shit. He could say anything he fucking wanted and it wouldn’t make the slightest difference… Until:

“I HAVE SYPHILIS.” Mickey looked up at Ian, completely aghast at his sudden outburst. The redhead had his arms spread wide and a smile on his face, before he noticed that the older boy had finally decided to take notice of his ridiculously false claims at the worst moment.

“Huh?” Mickey said, looking at Ian as if he were utterly mad.

“Oh god,” Ian said quickly, letting his arms fall as he made wild hand gestures at Mickey. “Oh god, no. I don’t. Mickey, I don’t have syphilis!” This was just Ian’s fucking luck. But a second later Mickey burst out laughing and Ian’s whole body flooded with relief. The darker haired boy was rolling around on his seat, clutching his belly and laughing his head off.

“Wow, I never knew you had a kid, Gallagher! Must have some straight in you!” Ian put his head in his hands, face red as a beet.

“Oh my god,” Mickey just continued to laugh and laugh as he dumped his essay on the table, and showed no signs of stopping. “Shut up!” Ian yelled, laughing all the same.

“Make me” Mickey said confidently, leaning back on his chair so it stood on two legs, smirking at Ian and still lightly chuckling. Anyone could have received the message that lay beneath those two words, and suddenly the atmosphere took a dramatic turn.

Ian was all but ready to pounce, he just needed one last piece of confirmation from Mickey and he would be on it. Said confirmation came in the slight beckoning nod the older boy aimed at Ian, and not a second later the redheaded boy was into action.

He swiftly left his chair to kneel on the floor in front of Mickey’s, pushing on the dark haired boy’s knees to get the chair back on all four legs before getting to work on his zipper. Mickey just looked down at him, eyes hooded and dark, ready for what was coming.

Ian pulled out Mickey’s dick and got to work, sucking lightly on the head and swirling his tongue around the slit. Mickey’s hands gripped the chair either side of his hips as his breath became laboured. This was after all, Mickey’s first time at the rodeo.

Sure, he’d taken it from random dudes in the back alleys of numerous clubs in Boystown but he’d never received a hummer. Well… 1. From a dude 2. A hummer someone who knew what they were doing 3. A hummer that he was sober enough to remember. None of those boxes had been checked up until now so all in all a new experience, and Mickey was fucking loving it.

Ian reached up a hand to drag Mickey’s into his hair, the older boy immediately clung onto the strands long enough to grab and Ian moaned, sending glorious vibrations through Mickey’s dick and sending him close to the edge. He tightened his grip in Ian’s hair, hoping he would get the message, and he was assuming he did by the way he fucking went for it.

He engulfed Mickey’s whole fucking dick and nothing had ever felt as good as his dick did right then. Mickey was stifling his moans and groans at Ian’s ministrations, but grasping the redhead’s hair tighter and tighter. He suddenly felt himself tense up, and not half a second later was coming harder than he’d ever come in his life, letting out the tiniest of moans as he did so.

Ian swallowed the whole lot, releasing Mickey’s dick with a pop and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He straightened up, smirking at the dishevelled boy in front of him. _Yup,_ Ian thought _job done._

Ian’s dick was at Mickey’s eye level, and he could see the raging hard-on he supported under his jeans. Mickey looked into Ian’s face before standing up and unzipping the redhead’s pants and giving him a quick and sloppy hand job. Ian didn’t seem to mind, however, and was moaning in no time, saying Mickey’s name as he came which made Mickey blush. He hid it by turning around and pretending to sort out his papers as Ian straightened himself up.

And not a minute too late as a few seconds after the younger boy had made himself presentable, Fiona burst through the door, arms laden with a tray of what looked like lasagne and other hand holding Liam’s little gloved one.

“Hi!” she said brightly, pulling Liam in with her as she closed the door and marched straight past Mickey, whose face had gone pale. Ian sighed, _here we go again._ However he was surprised when Mickey didn’t bolt like last time, he seemed nailed to the spot.

Fiona went on her merry way, organising the kitchen and retrieving plates from the cupboard, ready for dinner. At last she grabbed a beer from the fridge and turned to face the two boys.

“So,” she said, taking a swig and looking at Mickey “who are you?”

Mickey seemed to be struggling to remember his name as his mouth dumbly opened and closed, while he looked anywhere but at Fiona. Ian could already see the thug persona coming back into play.

“This is Mickey, I’m tutoring him in English for extra credit for my Westpoint application.” And although he wasn’t fond of the pupil title, he was grateful to Ian for not making him sound like some fucking dunce that was too stupid to pass English on his own. He cleared his throat.

“Um… Yeah.” Fiona looked between the two of them, a curious look on her face.

“Want to stay for dinner? We have lasagne. Ian, I know I said we wouldn’t have any dinner tonight but the diner had left-overs, I thought it was be a nice surprise.”

“It’s okay I only had toast.” Fiona nodded before turning her attention back to Mickey.

“Well?” Mickey was on the verge of accepting the offer, it was this or cereal and poptarts.

Then he realised what he’d be fucking agreeing to.

Him and Gallagher weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, this wasn’t fucking meet the parents. Fuck this shit. He and Gallagher had a good thing going, why spoil it with meeting the fucking family and whatnot. It was all getting a little too domestic for his liking.

“Nah, got shit to do.” Mickey said, rubbing his nose with his hand and looking anywhere but at Ian. “See ya, Gallagher” and with that he was out of the door, leaving a slightly crestfallen Ian in his wake.

There was a moment of silence before Fiona spoke. “Aren’t student-teacher relationships always a no-no?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS I am British so if any of the lingo comes through I am sorry


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not being funny I swear last Tuesday was yesterday... Oh well

“At the end of the day, it was just laughable. I told her she didn’t look displeasing to the eye however she accuses me of being untruthful? I mean Ian, tell me seriously would I ever lie about something as trivial as that?”

“Yeah… totally.” Jade turned to Ian in indignation, only to find him staring off into the distance watching something (or someone) extremely intently. Jade followed his gaze to find none other than Cole and his gang of Neanderthals. The curious but fond look that her best friend had in his eyes, toward one boy in particular, made her eyes narrow.

She slammed her locker shut, making Ian jump. The redhead turned somewhat guiltily to his much shorter but somehow much more intimidating best friend. She was fixing him with the disapproving ‘I-know-all’ look and Ian withered under her scrutiny.

“Who were you giving the love-eye to?” She asked, though portraying that she knew exactly who he was looking at, she just wanted to hear him say it.

Fuck, I am so busted Ian thought to himself. Well, he might as well get it out of the way. If he was going to tell anyone he guessed that he would have picked Jade anyway. He composed himself, ready to drop the bomb, however Jade seemed to take his prolonged silence as a indicator that he was going to remain silent on the matter.

“Ian, what the fuck are you thinking having a crush on fucking Cole Jenkins? It’s a death wish if ever I’ve heard one!” Ian’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to interrupt Jade before she worked herself up into a frenzy, however that seemed out of the question as she steamrollered on, almost as though she was talking to herself and not Ian. “It’s the most illogical thing for you to do. Of course you would do something as ridiculous as having romantic feelings for the most homophobic gorilla in the school.”

It was Ian’s turn to look at his friend indignantly, momentarily forgetting that Jade had all the wrong facts. “What do you mean ‘of course I would do something that ridiculous?”

Jade looked at her best friend despairingly, head tilted with hand on hips. “You know what I mean, Ian. When it comes to choosing a potential romantic partner you’re not exactly famous for making wise decisions. Need I remind you of Kash? He’s probably the worst possible candidate for a stable, functional relationship and here we are. Well, he was the worst, before you decided to give Cole fucking Jenkins the eye.”

Ian could think of one more person that was more unsuitable than Kash, maybe even Cole, but he put the thought of the date he had with that person that very evening to the back of his mind immediately and decided to belittle Jade instead.

“For your information, I do not like ‘Cole fucking Jenkins’,” He grabbed his english books from his locker, “my choice in men is not that bad never mind being none of your business,” he slammed the metal door loudly and turned to face his clearly exasperated best friend, “and no one can understand you when you talk like your fucking dad!”

He gave Jade just enough time to roll her eyes before he swept past her, ignoring her call after him.

“I make it my business if your choices could put you in potentially harmful situations!” Ian just kept walking, not bothering to look back.

He’d left Jade in a confused state and without further ado she leant against her locker and prepared to analyse the conversation he’d just stormed out of. After mulling it over, she came to the conclusion that either Ian was telling the truth and he was just daydreaming when he appeared to be getting all dreamy-eyed over Cole, or he was lying. For no apparent reason. However after thinking about it a bit more, her reaction may have put Ian off telling the truth if he did in fact like Cole, and suddenly Jade felt like a dick.

She knew that sometimes she had the tendency to speak without thinking. She would completely unwillingly imitate her dad and force her opinions and analysations on everyone and anyone she saw fit. If Ian did like Cole, obviously he would need support and reassurance to get over it, not his supposed best friend shouting at him and reminding him of all the shit decisions he’d made in his life.

This whole thought process had flitted through Jade’s quick mind in only a few seconds, and she could still see Ian’s retreating figure down the hallway. She heaved a sigh and shut her locker, but as she turned around, she realised that neither of her conclusions were correct. The realisation hit the tiny girl with the force of a tonne of bricks. Of course she thought, how could it have taken this long, even though she had worked it out in about a millisecond.

Her eyes had landed back on Cole and his band of miscreants, however one of the squad didn’t seem as focussed on bullying Sam Underwood for the drug money he owed as the others.

None other than Mickey Milkovich was looking after Ian storming away, the exact same look that Ian had sported whilst looking at the group earlier. It all made sense. Obviously they had been spending a lot of time together, and Ian had been very minimalist when it came to recounting his sessions with the thug. But no, Jade thought, this is bad… Very bad.

She seemed to forget who she was looking at as she leant against her locker as all these horrible scenarios of Ian confessing his love for Mickey and the thug beating him to a pulp ran through her brain, as ten seconds later a shout broke her from her reveries.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” It was Mickey himself, and for a moment Jade was stuck on what to do or say. She froze, as Mickey and the rest of his posse turned to her and waited for an answer, Sam Underwood clearly being forgotten about because that was how it worked, all for one and one for all. Jade however, suddenly felt a spark of daring catch alight within her. She straightened to her full height and looked the dark haired boy in the eye.

“Don’t flatter yourself Mickey.” She turned and walked away, she could feel herself turning red as a beet, but not before she heard three of the squad snigger as the fourth stood in stunned silence.

“Girl’s got balls.” Cole stated, watching the small girl walk to the end of the hall, turn right and disappear out of sight. Mickey just watched her go, eyes narrowed.

“Fuck her” he said angrily, grabbing his bag off the floor “I’ll get the bitch back. HEY!” He was just in time to grab the scruff of Sam Underwood’s shirt before he slithered away. “The money by Friday, or you’re gonna regret ever even looking at me”.

***

“Gallagher.” Ian turned in surprise at the sound of Mickey’s voice.

“Wow! Mickey Milkovich is actually deeming to speak to me in the hallowed halls of this sacred place!” However Ian’s grin faltered when he noticed Mickey’s stony expression, but he wasn’t surprised. Mickey had pointedly ignored him for the whole of English and he’d just been waiting for the dark haired boy to spit out what was causing him all the agro. Mickey just subtly nodded his head towards an empty side corridor that lay just beside them. Ian rolled his eyes and walked into it, knowing that Mickey was right behind him.

Reaching the end of the corridor towards a janitor’s closet, Ian was just about to turn and ask Mickey what was going on when saw a hand reach past him and open the door to the closet and felt a sharp push in the middle of his back, forcing him to topple head first into the tiny room falling onto a bucket which spilled its contents of floor cleaner fluids and cloths all over the floor.

“What the hell, Mickey?!” Ian yelled, laying spread eagled on the floor of the minuscule cupboard. Mickey slammed the door and took a second to make sure the lock was secure before turning to the boy at his feet.

“Why was your friend staring at me this morning?”

“Huh?!” Ian said, more invested on wiping his Mr Clean soaked hand on his jeans.

“Did you tell your friend about- about what we- about our-“ Ian rolled his eyes at Mickey’s sudden struggle to formulate words.

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about,” He heaved himself to his feet and Mickey looked up at him, eyes still narrowed. “And I haven’t told anyone, so I’m sure the answer to whatever question you tried and failed to ask is no.”

“I saw you two arguing, looked heated.”

“Oh so you’re watching me now?!” Mickey rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, reminding Ian of a child caught doing something against the rules. “I didn’t fucking tell her, okay? Jesus.”

Mickey seemed to deflate, he heaved a sigh and rubbed his face quickly before putting his I-don’t-give-a-fuck façade forcefully back in place. “Well good. I don’t have to tell you what’ll happen if you blab about… This.” Ian felt himself soften at Mickey’s change in demeanour and smirked at the shorter boy’s obvious discomfort, deciding to add to it.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll do me good and proper.” He stepped closer to Mickey, forcing him to back up against the wall. “Have me begging for mercy?” Their faces were an inch apart, and Ian could feel Mickey hardening against his leg, his breath becoming more laboured.

“Don’t make me show you.” Mickey whispered, so quietly Ian had to lean in even closer to hear.

“Maybe I want you to.” The redhead replied even quieter. This was the closest they’d ever gotten to kissing and Ian’s heart was beating so hard in his chest he was sure Mickey could feel it.

“Tonight?” The dark haired boy asked, and the moment was smashed to pieces. Ian backed away from Mickey, not looking at his as he collected his bag off the floor from where it’d been dropped not five minutes before. He cleared his throat as Mickey straightened up, looking confusedly at Ian’s sudden awkward outburst.

“Not tonight. I’ll text you.” And with that, he unlocked the door and all but ran down the corridor, leaving Mickey stuck in the janitor’s closet with a hard-on that would take at least ten minutes to get rid of itself. So Mickey shut the door and slid down the wall onto the floor while he waited for his dick to calm down.

He’d really wanted to fuck Gallagher just then. Like, really bad. He’d been fine with just fooling around, he’d never truly got the urge to just let the taller boy fuck him into the wall before now. However now that he’d felt the fire once, he knew it would be relit again. Fuck. He’d never meant to let it go this far.

Nowadays he made do with girls. He felt bad using them, because really he thought women were beautiful. He wasn’t one to completely disregard women because he had no sexual attraction to them, on the contrary, he thought they were amazing specimens. But ones he would rather admire from a distance than have actual sexual contact with, and that was fine. He knew that was fine, deep deep down. It just took him a while to remember it sometimes.

But he had to be careful. Being friends with the people he was friends with posed a shit-load of problems and barriers in his life with it’s particular preferences, and sometimes acting and thinking straight was the easiest way to minimise those problems and barriers. So he’d learnt to control these urges, the cravings, but with Gallagher it was different. He noticed an ant on the floor and idly watched it scuttle around in circles, wishing he could be an ant for a day, and do whatever the fuck he wanted.

As much as he hated to admit it, over the last month or so he had been craving Gallagher. He wanted to fuck him really, really bad. And now he knew he was in too deep, there was no going back, not until he’d had Gallagher. Then hopefully the flame would be satisfied and he could get back to his life, a life he now realised he didn’t really want to live.

He mentally smacked himself for letting himself even think that. He stood up wearily, picked up his own abandoned bag, as Ian had and quickly checked that his dick was completely flaccid before opening the door, peeking out for a quick security check before exiting the closet and hurriedly speed-walking down the corridor, surreptitiously checking his surroundings as he went.

However the unwanted thought continued to penetrate his mind unbidden over and over again, as he was hanging out with the boys under the bleachers, on his walk home, while he smoked his after-school cigarette on his porch and as he made his pathetic dinner of pot noodle and toast. All he could think was that he didn’t want to go back to a life where he didn’t fool around with guys, he didn’t want to live a lie.

So he made himself a deal. After he’d had Gallagher once, he’d stop all cravings. No full on sex with guys until he’d got himself the fuck out of Chicago, and suddenly he found himself with a motive. A motive to pass the year, a motive to pass English, a proper motive to graduate. And with the thought of all the dick he could have whenever he wanted when he moved to LA or San Francisco or wherever, he got out the notes he secretly made in English that day and looked them over, ready for his next session with Ian.

***

Two blocks away, Ian was getting ready for his date. Well, if you can call getting wined, dined and possibly sixty-nined in a fancy hotel because the guy you’ve been seeing can’t actually be seen with you in public, a date.

Ian knew it wasn’t right, knew it wasn’t fair on him, and reluctantly he realised that he thought he wasn’t being fair on Mickey either. For fuck sake, Ian thought, we’re not even together. But Ian knew that today, something changed. If not for his fucking date he and Mickey may have fucked that night, maybe even kissed. This made Ian forcibly angry at the man he was about to see. He’d just given up a chance at fucking Mickey so he could be treated like the mistress he was.

And with that, Ian made a final decision to end things that night. He wanted Mickey, not anyone else. He couldn’t help but think that he’d made the same promise about Kash only a month ago, and he still got his kicks every Monday and Saturday afternoons. Ian couldn’t help but feel a little sick at the thought, so promised himself with the utmost finality that he would end it with his other date that night, for good.

However when Ian arrived at the address on the North Side that had been texted to him, it was an even swankier hotel than usual, Ian got off his bike and took an audible intake of breath when he read the large shiny gold letters above the revolving doors: Four Seasons Hotel.

Although he looked like a typical South Side boy, dirty un-ironed clothes and on a bicycle, the staff must have been informed as one of the two doormen dressed in a long green coat with gold buttons and an old-fashioned top hat walked right up to him and gently grasped the handlebars of Ian’s bicycle.

“Mr Gallagher?” Ian nodded and the man smiled, his teeth almost impossibly white against his dark skin, “we’ve been expecting you.”

Manny (the doorman’s name tag read) nodded to his colleague and the man rushed to take Ian’s bike for him and wheel it to a nearby door, while seemingly out of nowhere two more men came to replace Manny and his partner, opening the doors for the two men as Manny lead Ian inside the building.

Ian had to physically stop his jaw from dropping open as he entered the lobby of the hotel, a huge atrium of white marble with a fountain set right into the middle of the room.

“Mr Lishman has told us to take your order for dinner and escort you straight to his room.” Manny said, handing Ian a menu which read ‘Room Service’. Ian sighed, knowing that he was no doubt going to break the promise he so forcefully made to himself not an hour previously.

They walked across the lobby towards the lifts, Ian marvelling at the obviously loaded guests sat at the bar drinking martinis and gin and tonics. Manny used a special key card to summon a lift immediately, and Ian unsurely stepped into it as though he had absolutely no right to be here. The doorman smiled at Ian’s awkward discomfort but left him be, turning to talk to the man operating the lift instead: “How you doin’ Lenny?”

‘Lenny’? Ian thought, how stereotypically lower class are these names going to get? He decided to peruse the menu he’d been given instead, and found that he couldn’t pronounce half the cheeses or breads available to him and felt a tingle of excitement as to what else - what other gifts and luxuries he was going to be showered with tonight. However as soon as he thought it, he regretted it.

The lift opened with a ding, and Manny bid farewell to the lift operator, beckoning Ian to follow him. They walked through a labyrinth of plush carpeted hallways until they reached a large door, room number 264.

Manny knocked on the door. “Before I go, your order Mr Gallagher?” He nodded towards the menu still clutched in Ian’s hand.

“Um, I’m not hungry.” Ian lied. However Manny didn’t press the subject, just waited for his knock to be answered. They didn’t have to wait long.

The door opened to reveal the man of the moment in his full glory. Hair slicked back and wearing a well-fitted dark blue suit, Ian couldn’t help but feel butterflies erupt in his stomach, all the anger he’d felt towards the man in front of him seeping away.

“Ian.” He said as way of greeting, fixing the young boy with a piercing, almost hungry stare. “Thanks Manny.” Ned said, not looking at the man he was addressing. However the doorman didn’t seem to care.

“Have a good night, sir.” And with that he was gone, leaving Ian in the doorway of room 264 waiting for Ned to invite him in. The older man simply stepped back, allowing Ian room to enter, which he did most willingly. His promise made earlier that night, and the boy he was tutoring put far out of his mind. Well, for the time being at least.

***  
Things were quiet at the Kash and Grab, they nearly always were on the Monday afternoons that Ian worked. After his quick but nonetheless compulsory fool-around with Kash, Ian usually just sat behind the counter working or catching up on the latest gun and army magazines Kash stocked.

However, today he was in for a surprise. About an hour into his shift, literally just as he’d sat down after emerging from the back room with his boss, the bell dinged and Ian looked up to find Jade in a big coat, purple scarf and a grey beanie bee-lining for him.

“Hey stranger.” She said somewhat wearily, rubbing her hand together and blowing on them to try to gather some warmth. They hadn’t really talked since their little tiff by their lockers. But Ian was over it. He missed his best friend. Melissa and Craig were great, but he and Jade had always been closest. Ian could tell she was nervous – she was fiddling with her tattoo, a particularly noticeable nervous tick of hers.

“Hey,” Ian smiled, and she visibly relaxed. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” she answered, leaning against the counter, “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

It was true, Ian had been so busy trying to sort out his shit-storm of a life that he hadn’t seen Jade or his other two friends in at least a week. After school he would either be working, tutoring Mickey or helping Fiona around the house, so he used his lunch breaks to catch up on all the homework he was missing.

“Yeah well, it’s not on purpose.” He smiled again but hers faltered.

“Really? I thought you were avoiding me after our last interaction…” Ian couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Jade’s official tone as he fiddled with the corner of Guns & Ammo.

“It wasn’t, things have just been hectic lately.” He met her eyes only to find her yet again fixing him with a knowing look.

“Yes,” she started, tugging a loose thread on her sleeve before going for the Hail Mary: “How is Mickey?”

Ian looked up at her quickly in barely disguised alarm. “Um… He’s fine, why would you ask me that?”

Jade tugged the thread free and raised her eyebrows at Ian, who just sighed and slumped back into the ancient swivel-chair that had been there since long before he was hired.

“So,” she pushed, determined for Ian to come clean, “how is he?”

Ian paused for a second before admitting: “Confusing.”

“I knew it!” Jade all but shrieked, straightening form the counter and bouncing on the spot, causing Kash to look over at the pair curiously from where he was restocking the chicken noodle soup. Ian gave her a swift warning look and she hushed herself, although still looking mightily pleased with herself.

She took a deep breath and replaced herself on her place against the counter before continuing. “So Ian, why are things with Mickey confusing?”

Ian knew he couldn’t tell Jade about Ned (she was sure to tell someone, and Ned was sure to be arrested), nor could he tell her the true conditions under which he was working for Kash, because technically that could be classed as blackmail and to a certain extent sexual exploitation and prostitution. However she did at least know about his previous, practically harmless relationship with Kash, so he started there in marginally hushed tones so that his boss wouldn’t overhear.

“Well, we’re not together, nowhere near but I feel bad for still fooling around with Kash.” Jade listened in excited silence, “I’ve done the whole 'friends with benefits’ before, but fucking around with other people never bothered me, and if it didn’t bother Roger Spikey then there’s no way in hell it would bother Mickey but I don’t know… I just feel bad.”

“So why are you doing it? With Kash, I mean?” Jade asked, genuinely confused. Shit Ian thought, he didn’t really think this through. He gave himself some time by taking a swig of water from his bottle he kept under the counter and took his time rearranging himself and to think, before ploughing on.

“Well with Mickey it’s new and exciting and risky but with Kash… It’s just a constant, you know what I mean?” To an extent, what he said was true. But that was how he used to feel about his boss, now he looked over at the older man who had moved on to the baby formulae and saw only a sad, needy child. Everything about him disgusted Ian and gave him the worst kind of chills. It was strange, how one day Kash was everything he’d wanted then Mickey came along and he’d seen Kash for what he really was. He was starting to appreciate the value of age appropriate relationships. However every time he’d actually come to grips with the fact that dating guys his own age was probably the best thing for him, Ned’s face swam into view and Ian’s whole realisation would be thrown out the window.

He seemed to have forgotten he had company. Jade had been watching Ian in his silent stupor thoughtfully. “Something else is going on.” She said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Ian said immediately. “Sorry, I was just trying to remember if Fiona had asked me to pick up dinner on the way home.” He avoided her gaze and Jade seemed to decide that now was the time to leave Ian to his thoughts.

“Something else is going on,” she said as she walked towards the door, still whispering in case Kash should decide to be nosey, “I’m here for you when you want to tell me. Be careful, Ian.” And with that she smiled and pulled open the door. The bell chimed and Ian was left alone with his problems. He sighed and looked at his watch, ready to count down the seconds until he could get out of this hell-hole.

***

  
Two days passed, and Ian still hadn’t managed to catch up with his friends or sort out any of the problems that he’d decided to make for himself. He’d been forced to take up extra shifts at the Kash and Grab, meaning that Mondays and Saturdays were no longer the only days of the week he dreaded spending with Kash.

He’d just finished a double shift, got home and thrown himself on the dirty Gallagher couch, eager to somehow get the scent and reminder of Kash off of himself. He closed his eyes, thinking that he might actually be able to get to sleep tonight when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

He tiredly fished it out and checked the message waiting for him.

**[Melissa – 18:12]  
Study group at Craig’s, we’re all here. Fancy coming this week?**

Ian sighed as he read it. He hadn’t made it to study group for the past three weeks, his friends must think he was avoiding them.

**[Me – 18:13]  
Can’t tonight, but can we all do lunch tomorrow? In the cafeteria as usual?**

It hadn’t been a lie, Ian couldn’t that night but he still felt bad sending the message. But he was determined to spend lunch with them tomorrow, to tell them he was fine and he wasn’t ignoring them, he just had a lot on his plate at the minute. His phone vibrated with another text.

**[Melissa – 18:13]  
Sounds like a plan!**

Just then he heard a knock at the back door and took a minute to put his phone away, heave himself off the couch and wander over to the door. As soon as he opened his a flustered Mickey burst into the room, turning and shutting the door behind him. Ian looked at him, startled.

“What took you so long man?!” Mickey asked angrily, unwinding his scarf from around his neck and tossing it over a chair. Ian’s eyes widened, Mickey’s skittish demeanour suddenly making sense.

“Why, who’s following you?!” Ian rushed forward to bolt the door and peer out of the tiny window. “I swear to God if you’ve bought some crackhead to my house I will kill you.”

“Oh my god, stop.” Ian turned around to find Mickey already sat down at the little kitchen table – pouring over his notes which were currently spread all over it.He continued, not tearing his eyes away from his analysis of Broken Dreams. “No one’s following me, I just don’t want anyone seeing me coming in here.”

Ian narrowed his eyes and walked over and bent down to put his hands on the back of Mickey’s chair, either side of his head so he was forced to look into Ian’s face. Mickey sighed and did so as Ian spoke.

“What, are you embarrassed of me?” Mickey gave him a confused look.

“Um, yes! I am extremely embarrassed of you, when have I not made this clear?” Ian sighed and withdrew his arms, slumping into the opposite chair looking (and feeling) miffed. Mickey rolled his eyes at the diva before standing up and mimicking Ian’s actions, caging the taller boy in and extending a hand to roughly drag Ian’s chin up so they could lock eyes.

“Stop being such a baby.” Mickey told him. Ian narrowed his eyes and used a foot to collide with the backs of Mickey’s knees, making him fall to the ground in between Ian’s legs.

“Make me.” Ian whispered, his intentions for Mickey resoundingly clear in the quiet kitchen.

There was a long moment of silence before Mickey replied: “I… I haven’t-“ He wasn’t looking at Ian, in fact he was looking anywhere but the younger boy’s face. Ian understood, but there had to be a first time for everything. He took his turn to reach and tug Mickey’s chin so that he would look at him, and in a softer tone whispered to him.

“Don’t be such a baby,” The redhead said, repeating Mickey’s words from a minute ago. Mickey exhaled sharply, pulling his chin out of Ian’s grasp however not moving from in between Ian’s legs. “It’s okay,” Ian insisted, running a hand through Mickey’s surprisingly silky hair. “I’ll teach you.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, pulling his head out of Ian’s grasp but reached forward and undid the taller boy’s flies. Ian couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of Mickey pulling his dick out and tentatively leaning forward.

Ian lost it at the first touch of Mickey’s mouth to his cock. It was like that one infinitesimal second marked the barrier from one world to the next, a world where only Mickey existed, a barrier which the brunet himself had just shoved Ian across. Within seconds Ian’s breath had become laboured, though the boy in between his legs was still only timidly lapping at the tip of his dick.

Before long Ian couldn’t help but think of ways he could try to help Mickey along, but he couldn’t seem to form constructive sentences in his mind, why was this happening to him? Mickey hadn’t even touched Ian’s dick with his hands, both resting lightly on each of the seated boy’s knees but Ian literally felt like he could come just from this, and it was starting to freak him out a little.

However before long he had no time to wig out about anything as Mickey himself seemed to get bored with teasing. Suddenly, without warning he just fucking went for it, and it was all Ian could do to just hold on for the ride. He felt one of his legs spasm and Mickey thumped his leg with a clenched fist as a warning Ian took to mean that if he kicked the boy in front of him, said boy would proceed to bite his dick off.

So Ian gripped the seat of his chair on either side as Mickey continued to deep throat his dick, occasionally drawing back to flick and swirl the tip with his tongue. Ian was starting to think that Mickey had lied, and that this was not his first time at the rodeo. He was suddenly overcome with a fiery jealousy he’d never felt before, and all he could decide on in that moment was that Mickey was his. Only his.

In a crazed fit of possession Ian reached forwards and grasped at a fairly large chunk of Mickey’s hair, and for a split second he thought he’d gone to far until Mickey groaned in approval sending a wave of vibrations down Ian’s dick which seemed to reach his very core. Mickey drew back off Ian’s dick, head tilted back with the force of Ian’s grip in his hair and for a millisecond the two boys made eye contact. And Ian came all over the kneeling boy’s face.

“Fuck. Shit, sorry.” Ian said hurriedly as Mickey just sat back on his calfs in a seemingly shocked silence. Ian jumped to his feet and faffed around the kitchen trying to find a tissue or a fucking cloth of any type. With his back to Mickey, he took a moment to look to the heavens and curse whatever God was out there for making him come without warning like a blundering fourteen year-old receiving his first hand-job.

However when Ian turned around to deliver Mickey with the sorry news that he’d probably just have to use his sleeve or something, he found the boy in question collecting his notes from the rickety table and sucking lightly on the thumb of his other hand, all Ian’s come on his face having disappeared.

Ian literally thought he was going to come in his pants. Again.

He stared at Mickey for a second longer before the dark haired boy broke his reverie.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” The boy said, not deeming to look at the transfixed boy ten feet away from him.

“I didn’t know you were into that stuff.” Ian said, and mentally punched himself for a second later. What the fuck was that?!

Mickey just turned to Ian with his notes, looking at his somewhat despairingly before replying: “Whatever, Gallagher. We’re meeting tomorrow at lunch, Pearson’s classroom, to go over the stuff we didn’t get done tonight. I’d say let’s do it now but… I you don’t seem up to much right now.” Giving Ian a smirk he opened the door and strode out, leaving Ian with a cold gust of wind and the familiar feeling of worry settling in his gut.

He sighed and walked over to shut the door, doing so then letting his back fall against it and slide down to the cheap linoleum floor. He truly had a fucking problem now. Thinking about it, he stood by what he’d felt when Mickey’s mouth first touched his dick. It was like entering a new world of bliss. No one had made him feel like that before, not Kash, not Ned not fucking Roger Spikey. After that one encounter Ian’s urge to fuck Mickey had never been so strong and it needed to be shut down.

The sudden fit of possessiveness just proved to Ian that he was getting in too deep. Mickey didn’t see him like that. He was a warm mouth, that’s it. And if Ian was going to get all soppy and start catching feelings and shit the whole situation could develop into an absolute disaster.

Ian knew he needed to cool off. If he spent as much time with Mickey as he was now, or god forbid he fucked him things were going to get complicated and messy fast. So as he sat there, back to the door he decided: he was not going to fuck Mickey. No way no how unless he wanted to get his heart and possibly his face broken. So that was that, he wasn’t fucking Mickey.

At that moment as a smirking Mickey unlocked the door to his house, he was getting a semi just thinking about how much he wanted the complete opposite of Ian’s plan to happen. He was fucking Ian Gallagher at the first given opportunity if it was the last thing he did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a lil bit earlier than usual because I have a day off due to exams. It's a big'n guys! Enjoy :)

It was 12:45 and Melissa, Jade and Craig were in the cafeteria and Ian was nowhere to be seen. Jade had noticed that Melissa’s head had practically not stopped moving since they entered the stuffy hall, checking every exit for a sign of the redhead. She and Craig hadn’t seen Ian in days and Jade was keeping remarkably tight-lipped on the situation, not that they’d discussed their fourth friend’s recent absence in great detail. So Melissa decided to change that.

“Has anyone noticed that Ian hasn’t been around lately?” She asked not-so-nonchalantly, keeping her eyes fixed on the frankly disgusting lasagne she’d just purchased from the cafeteria.

“Anyone who hasn’t been living under a rock would notice that he hasn’t been around much.” Craig said, eyes not moving from the book on US politics he was studying for a test next period.

“I’m getting quite worried… Nate said he’s missed three ROTC sessions in the past two weeks, that’s not like him at all.” Melissa looked downcast at her untouched food and Jade couldn’t help but say something.

“I don’t think his absence, though noticeable, is anything to worry about.” The blonde looked up hopefully at Jade, hanging onto her every word. “He’s had a lot on his plate recently.”

Melissa perked up at that. “Do you know something? Has he told you anything?”

Jade avoided her eye and went slightly red under Melissa’s intense scrutiny. Her hand immediately found the small tattoo inked onto her inner wrist, rubbing it somewhat frantically.

“He just mentioned that he’s had a lot on his mind, you know with Fiona and…” Don’t say Mickey don’t say Mickey don’t say Mickey. “and missing Lip and working and Mi-… Military, you know, West Point and shit.”  
Melissa was now watching Jade struggle with narrowed eyes and folded arms, having clearly noticed her friend’s nervousness and the almost-slip-up.

“Jade Anne Proctor.” Melissa said, and the smaller girl knew she was done for. “You only swear when you’re trying to avoid saying what you’re really thinking and you’re rubbing your tattoo.” Jade averted her eyes and the blonde leant forward slightly. “What. Do. You. Know?”

***

“IAN!” The man himself turned around to find a very angry Melissa Reddner marching towards him like a woman on a mission, he realised his mistake a second too late.

“Oh my god, lunch. I completely spaced I’m so sorry!” But that didn’t seem to be what was on her mind.

“We need to talk.” She said simply. Dragging Ian by his sleeve down a side corridor to the very same janitors’ closet that he and Mickey had had their little indiscretion. Despite the current circumstances he couldn’t help but smirk at the memory.

Melissa shoved him into the closet, casting a furtive look around for any onlookers before entering herself and locking the door behind them. She turned to Ian, arms crossed and scowl on her face.

“So. Haven’t seen you in a while. Why is that?” She asked Ian angrily, who was at an absolute loss as to what he’d done wrong.

“Look, sorry I missed lunch. That was shitty, I’ve just had so much on my mind recently. You know with Fiona and the kids and work and everything.”

Melissa raised her eyebrows. “Oh really? Okay.” She said, nodding her head slightly. “Are you sure it isn’t because you’ve been ditching us for secret little liaisons with Mickey Milkovich?”

Ian felt his blood run cold as his eyes widened in shock.

“Isn’t that like, the first rule of being a teacher? That you don’t get involved with your students?” She flicked her long, perfectly curled hair over her shoulder and waited for Ian to stop sputtering.

“Um, I don’t know- I mean… What are you talking about?” Melissa shook her head, he didn’t even have the decency to look like he was telling the truth.

“Cut the bullshit Ian, Jade told us.” Ian’s heart sank. All the air seemed to slowly deflate out of the girl in front of him as she looked at his face. Ian realised that she was no longer angry, she just looked upset. “Really Ian? After what they did to Benny? How could you?”

Ian rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, trying to think of something – anything that could appease his friend.

“He’s a delinquent, Ian. Never mind the fact that he’s probably the most homophobic guy in this school after Cole, he’s going nowhere. No matter what a good tutor you are, he’s not going to graduate. He’s going to be stuck in this city until he dies which will be extremely soon unless he gets himself locked up before that, which is probably more likely.”

However, with each word Melissa spoke he felt the shame drain out of him only to be replaced with indignation on Mickey’s behalf.

“You know his dad’s in prison for life right? For murder. He’s headed in the same direction and you know it. He’ll only drag you down. What do you think is going on here? You’re going to become boyfriends and walk around school hand in hand? He’ll kill you for even suggesting the idea because that’s who he is. A pathetic thug.”

Ian was definitely angry now.

“You don’t even know him.” He said quietly, trying to keep his cool. Why was he defending Mickey like this? Deep down he knew that most of the things Melissa was saying were true, but for some reason he felt this fiery primitive need to fight Mickey’s case.

“Oh and you do? Tell me one personal thing he’s told you.” Ian was stumped at that but he soldiered on, heightening himself so he towered over Melissa trying to get the advantage.

“He isn’t going to fail the year, he’s not like the rest of his friends! He may not be an open book but I can tell, you don’t know him.”

Melissa scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Explain Benny, Ian. He and his cronies beat him up for money. He didn’t even owe them anything they probably just wanted to get high and picked on the first kid they saw. He was fucking thirteen, Ian.”

Ian sighed and averted his eyes, staring sulkily at the floor, but just when Ian was going to give up Melissa pulled the pin to his internal anger grenade:

“He’s going to break your heart, Ian. You’re too sensitive. You’ll catch feelings and he’ll hightail out of there, leaving us to pick up the pieces.” Ian looked at Melissa angrily. Suddenly, the room seemed to be closing in on him. Everything was becoming cramped and confined, as though Ian’s anger was filling all the empty space around him like a poisonous gas. He reached past her to unlock the door to the closet, opening it and moving swiftly past her to exit the tiny room. Melissa stayed silent as Ian walked away, he didn’t look back to see the look on her face. Just imagining the smug expression made the anger inside him multiply tenfold.  
School was long over, and Ian stomped down the empty halls, the conversation he’d just had with his supposed friend replaying in his mind over and over.

She thought he was too sensitive for Mickey? What a joke. Sensitive people probably would have gone insane by now with all the shit Ian had gone through in his life. The death of his parents, his insanely unstable home life, the next to no attention he received at home, Lip, Debbie even fucking Carl always more important than himself.

Ian was out of school within minutes, almost running down the street treading the familiar path back home. He was the one that worked for the family on a near-daily basis, he was the one who kept the family glued together and what does he get. You’re too sensitive. Fuck that. He didn’t hesitate to angrily kick a trashcan on the street, only to yell out in pain, his big toe now throbbing.

Strangers were giving him extremely agitated looks as he marched down the streets, the tall boy just daring one of them to say something.

You’ll just catch feelings. Melissa’s patronising voice was ringing in his head only feeding the hungry dragon that was his internal rage. She thought he couldn’t do friends with benefits? She thought he couldn’t just fuck around without getting all emotional? Well he could. And he was going to prove it.

Before long he’d reached his destination. He opened the rickety gate to the yard, reaching the steps to the porch of the house and running up them. He pounded on the door, breathing heavily. He was going to prove her wrong. The door opened.

“Christ Gallagher, why you trying to break down the door?!” Mickey was holding a baseball bat, obviously thinking that the person so violently beating his door had some sort of beef with him. Without replying Ian stepped over the threshold, grabbing the bat and throwing it somewhere to the side. He thought he heard something break but all he was seeing was red.

He reached behind him with his foot and shoved the door shut. He’d been looking right into the shorter boy’s face since he’d first set eyes upon him and Mickey himself seemed unable to look away. But he didn’t have time for this. The taller boy grabbed Mickey’s wrist, spinning him around and slamming him none-too-lightly against the wall opposite the door.

He had trouble finding his footing for a second, with all the shit littering the immediate inside of the house, but it didn’t phase him. He was here to get a job done and get it done he would.

“I’m going to fuck you.” Ian heard Mickey’s sharp intake of breath at his words, “Right here. Right now.” It was all Mickey could do to just nod.

Ian didn’t even have the humour in him to smirk at Mickey’s willingness to have Ian fuck him. Wasting no time, he reached down with the hand that wasn’t still pinning Mickey’s wrist to the wall to pull down his sweats. He suddenly realised he didn’t have lube or a condom on him, but he was on a mission, and fuck him he was going to fucking complete it.

He spat on his fingers before lightly circling Mickey’s rim. “Are you clean?” He whispered hotly into Mickey’s ear before taking the lobe into his mouth and sucking.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned, pushing back against Ian. “You better be seeing as I swallowed a whole load of your come the other-“ he gasped as Ian bit down on his earlobe.

“Shut up.” Ian said, Mickey felt his dick twitch. He withdrew his fingers once more and spat on them again before returning them to Mickey’s hole and shoving them quickly into it. Mickey inhaled sharply as Ian got to work stretching him out. It didn’t take him long before he’d found Mickey’s prostate, and it was all the shorter boy could do to lean most of his weight against the cold wall his face was currently pressed into. He was pretty sure his legs were about to give way.

Ian was pressed practically flat along the length of Mickey’s body, pushing him into the wall so he couldn’t even move. Ian’s power trip was seriously turning Mickey on, and he was going to come in his sweats if Ian didn’t get on with it.

“Come on man,” Mickey said breathlessly and once again he was met with a sharp bite, this time to his neck which made his dick leak. Nonetheless Ian withdrew his fingers and replaced it with the tip of his cock. Mickey’s breath quickened at the prospect of what was about to happen but when it did, but nothing could have prepared him for it.

Ian thrust into Mickey with such force that the breath was knocked out of him as he was squashed against the wall, the cool expanse of brick icy cold compared with the furnace-like heat Ian was radiating at his back. The contrast of heat and the lack of oxygen to his brain making Ian’s dick the only thing he could focus on. It was amazing.

Ian started with hard, regulated thrusts, each one making Mickey gasp for air but before long he was going for it, jackhammering into the boy in front of him and all Mickey could do was hold on and enjoy the ride. His hands scrambled for something to hold onto but there was nothing but the flat surface of the wall in front of him so he opted to reach back and grab hold of the short hairs at the back of Ian’s neck.

He wasn’t sure if he would get reprimanded by this new dominant Ian for the risky move but on the contrary, the taller boy let out his first moan of the encounter and Mickey nearly came just from the sound of it.

With one hand slipped under Mickey’s shirt on his hip, Ian used the other to pull Mickey’s hair, forcing his head away from the wall to rest against Ian’s shoulder, exposing his neck which the redhead promptly latched onto with his mouth, sucking harshly whilst maintaining the blistering pace, hitting Mickey’s prostate once in a while. Ian made the conscious effort not to hit it every time, he didn’t want Mickey coming too early

However before long Mickey was pulling hard on Ian’s hair, warning him that he was well on the way to coming all over the wall, making his dick twitch inside the shorter boy. So he redirected his dick to hit the small bundle of nerves on every thrust making Mickey yell out whilst Ian licked up the column of Mickey’s neck up to his earlobe, tasting the salty sweat that now covered most of both boys’ bodies. Ian reached around with the hand that was pulling Mickey’s hair to cover his mouth. The older boy didn’t protest.

Ian was reaching the edge, but he was determined to make the boy in front of him let go first, so he redoubled his efforts (Mickey couldn’t believe that was even possible at this point) and Mickey reached down with the hand that wasn’t still pulling Ian’s hair to strip his own cock.

Mickey could feel his climax building inside him, all his senses heightening in the moment. He could hear Ian’s sharp breaths as he was muttering nonsense into Mickey’s ear, he actually thought he could smell the salt in the sweat that drenched their bodies, he could feel everything. The cool wall still pressed against his face, Ian’s hand around his mouth, one of his fingers almost inside Mickey’s open mouth, Ian’s dick pounding relentlessly inside him and all he could see was black, then suddenly stars, then a bright white light as he his release washed over him.

He hadn’t realised but he’d bitten down considerably hard on the finger that had unwittingly been to close to Mickey’s open mouth, the pain and Mickey’s moan sending Ian over the edge with him, making him yell out in pleasure.

For a minute, they just stood there. Both boys breathing fast and heavy, their heart rates returning to normal as Ian’s dick softened inside Mickey. Ian had his eyes closed, just basking in the afterglow until suddenly Mickey was pulling away from him, carefully forcing Ian to pull out.

For a split second Ian’s heart sank, thinking that Mickey’d had his fun, and was now going to mercilessly kick Ian out. However Mickey just pulled up his sweats, turned and slid down the wall to slump to the floor, Ian standing over him, hand braced against the wall. Ian watched as the seated boy reached somewhere to his left, producing a cigarette packet out of nowhere. They’d in fact fallen out of Mickey’s sweats while he was getting ruthlessly fucked by the boy above him. He extracted two smokes from the pack and used a lighter that had been inside the box to light up, he wordlessly handed the other smoke and the lighter to Ian who bent to sit down next to Mickey, his back also against the wall, their legs carelessly splayed in front of them

It was dark outside, and Mickey hadn’t bothered to turn any lights on before the sun went down meaning they were mostly in darkness. The only light available was that of a street lamp outside, streaming in through the window in the living room. Probably the only one on the whole street that fucking works Ian thought ruefully. It cast a strange orange glow over the house, helped by the glowing orange tips of their lit cigarettes. It reminded Ian of a sunset.

Mickey found that he still couldn’t seem to form full sentences in his head apart form the fact that Ian’s hair looked really orange in this light… like fire. He looked at the lighter that Ian was turning through his fingers, which had a picture of a naked cartoon woman on it. Colin had gotten it for him as an ironic private joke and he was actually quite fond of it.  
He took a drag on his cigarette, feeling the smoke swirl into his lungs until his blew it out in a long, steady stream. He couldn’t help but hear the same word repeated in his head, over and over again as Ian sat silently next to him.

Fuck.

***  
Mickey examined the deep red marks Ian had left on his neck the previous night in the tiny, dirty bathroom mirror and felt shivers run down his spine. In short, he was fucked. He hadn’t stopped thinking about what had happened the previous night and Ian himself for a second, and all he could conclude is that the whole fuck-him-once-then-bounce plan was being forcefully chucked out of the nearest window.

All he knew was that so help him God he would fuck Ian again, preferably as often as possible. He tilted his neck in order to run his fingers over the dark splotches, he liked them. He was pretty sure these were the first marks he’d ever had no his body that had resulted from something other than hatred. His eyes travelled down his bare, toned torso to all the other faded scars that had definitely not been left out of love.

As he looked at them he felt his insides curl with rage at the man who’d inflicted each and every one, and in that moment was glad he couldn’t see his back, which scars held much more harrowing memories. He actually made a point of avoiding looking at his back at all times. So he forced his eyes to move back to the new constellation on his neck.

Just then he heard three loud bangs on his front door, and the déjà vu from the night before made the hair on the back of his neck stand up straight. His heart sped up at the prospect of Gallagher coming back for round two. He took a deep breath and exited the bathroom, walking calmly to the front door and putting his swaggering façade in place, not bothering to put on a shirt.

He took another breath to calm himself before opening the door, greeting phrase already ready to roll in his head. However, there was no use for it as Damon came into view, shoving Mickey past so he could enter the house. Mickey couldn’t deny the disappointment that coursed through him at the sight of his best friend. Mickey shut the door and turned to see Damon peeking out of the threadbare curtains that hung sloppily over the front window.

“Yo.” Damon said, not looking at Mickey. “Sorry to barge in, some guy I undersold last week just clocked me down the block and I can’t be fucked for that shit.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes and folded his arms, waiting for Damon to confirm the all clear.

“Looks good,” he said after a minute or so, withdrawing from the window to face Mickey. “Woah, what the fuck happened to you?” He said, eyeing Mickey’s neck in distaste. Mickey just smirked and shrugged, moving to lean against the doorframe to the living room. Damon grimaced.

“Well I was going to ask why you’ve been so fucking impossible to contact these days but I guess you’ve been shacked up in this love nest.” Mickey shrugged again, his smirk growing wider. “Is she here?” Damon asked, craning his neck to peer through Mickey’s bedroom door which was slightly ajar.

Mickey was thrown for a loop for a second with Damon’s whole assumption of gender, then remembered who he was. “Nah man, she left this morning.” In actual fact Ian had left smartish the night before, leaving Mickey in the afterglow. His prompt exit made Mickey wonder if he’d done something to upset the other boy, but he guessed he’d text the redhead tomorrow or something to find out what the story was.

“Nice,” Damon said appreciatively. “Anyway, I don’t care what you’re doing I’m staying and you’re making me a poptart.” Mickey rolled his eyes and turned to enter the kitchen.

Damon’s smile faltered as he watched his friend walk to the kitchen. He was used to the canvas of scars that was Mickey’s back, however he was taken aback by the new additions. He knew that his best friend never fucked girls face to face, ever. So it only made sense that the person who’d littered Mickey’s neck with hickies and bite marks would have had to have been behind him. Damon’s smile fell completely from his face while an unassuming Mickey hummed wonderwall and swore as he burnt his fingers on the hot poptarts.

***  
“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Ian.”

“Ian? Oh my god, Ian. I’m so sorry. I panicked! You know Melissa, she’s so hard to lie to and she knew I was because I tried Ian! I promise I tried to lie but she just knew and before I knew it she’d coaxed it out of me and I don’t even know what happened usually I’m so good at that stuff but she just got me! I’m so sorry I never meant for this to happen. She said you had a fight, did you have a fight? Shit I am so sorry please forgive me, I never meant to cause shit, oh my god I can’t believe I cracked so easily, I’m so weak and-“

“For fuck sake Jade, shut up!” Ian interrupted, if he didn’t stop her soon she’d talk herself to an early death. “I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?” She said tentatively.

“No,” Ian said, “why would I have called you if I was?”

“Good point,” she said, “Although you could have been calling to tell me our friendship was over and you couldn’t tell me in person because you couldn’t bear to see my face!” Ian snorted at Jade’s usual tendency to overthink every viable option to every scenario.

“Well I’m not, I’m actually kind of glad you told them. They would have found out at some point and sooner rather than later in my opinion. Plus, it would have been so fucking awkward so glad I didn’t have to go through that.”

“Oh my god, Ian it was awful! Melissa was looking at me like it was me who was fucking him! The phrase ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ was definitely forgotten because I might as well have been blasted with a bazooka. I think she’s still mad at me for not telling her as soon as I found out…” Ian rolled his eyes at Melissa’s apparent actions. He was definitely still angry about yesterday.

“So… Has anything happened with your new love bug?” Jade asked, slightly muffled as though she was eating something. Only then did Ian realise how hungry he was – he hadn’t eaten since the night before.

“Yeah. Basically, Melissa told me I’d catch feelings so I went and fucked Mickey to prove the point that I wouldn’t which seriously backfired because now I don’t want anyone else touching him, ever.” Ian said in a rush. Jade remained silent, seemingly out of shock so Ian decided to break the silence. “Whatever you’re eating I don’t care, I’m coming over right now and eating half of it.”

“Fine by me!” Jade replied happily. “It seems we have a lot to talk about anyways!” She said, and Ian could practically feel the excitement radiating through the earpiece.

***  
Days passed since that night with Mickey and he hadn’t seen or heard a peep from him. Ian was starting to get worried. Was Mickey getting cold feet? Did he regret what happened? Ian was in total panic mode, craning his neck every second of the time he was at school for a glimpse of Mickey. He walked the long route home to pass Mickey’s house in an effort to see any sign of movement from within it but nothing. So the next day, he resorted to the last possible option.

He felt his heart speed up as he and Jade made their way down to the bleachers at lunch, making a last ditch effort to see his student. As they rounded the corner of the bleachers to duck underneath them, Ian’s heart dropped as he only saw three figures sat on the scaffolding support bars underneath them, Cole’s vibrant hair visible even from this distance. Fuck, not he had to think of an excuse as to why the fuck they were there.

Jade looked at him wearily as they approached the group of thugs, and he could feel the tension radiating off her by the time they came to a stop right in front of the seated boys.

“What the fuck do you want?” Cole Jenkins said, eyeing Ian and Jade suspiciously before surprisingly addressing Jade. “Hey! You’re the girl who called Mickey out the other day. This girl has balls man.” He said, now looking at her somewhat appreciatively whilst taking a drag on his smoke with his crudely tattooed fingers. Jade felt shivers of repulsion travel down her spine and it took all of her muster not to physically cringe.

However Ian was eyeing Matt Collier, the silent giant who was giving him a very pointed glare as though to say answer the fucking question.

“Well,” Ian started, heart racing in his chest. “I want drugs.” Jade blurted next to him, Ian’s eyes widened and he looked at her incredulously.

Cole snorted while Damon rolled his eyes. “This guy’s your man!” Cole said, clapping Damon on the back, the other boy reached tiredly into his pocket, as though a million amateurs had already approached him that day. Ian knew he was far from an amateur but he still didn’t want to risk looking like a tit in front of the intimidating group. He wished Mickey was here.

“What do you want?” Damon asked. “I’ve only got weed, molly and special K on me at the moment so pick your poison.”

“Just a draw, please.” Ian said politely, and handed his money to Damon who handed him the baggie with a hand that bore scabbed and bruised knuckles. Ian looked at them curiously for a second before Damon withdrew his hand and put it in his pocket, looking mightily sketchy. The four boys and girl remained silent for a few seconds before Matt spoke.

“Fuck off!” The whole group looked at him in surprise.

“Wow… I forgot you could actually talk!” Cole exclaimed, showing off his classic crazy eyes and clapping Matt on the back, who only glared his disapproval of the physical contact at his best friend.

“But seriously he’s right.” Cole said, turning back to the pair. “Fuck off.”

Ian and Jade rushed to obey, turning on their heels and speed-walking away from the threesome.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak in my life and I have three classes with him!” Jade whisper-shouted as they hurried away, Ian stowing the baggie in his pocket. “And the first word he deems to speak to me is ‘fuck off’! Where was he raised, a barn?!”

“Nah, a crack house probably.” Ian said, turning back one last time to see the three boys chatting as though nothing had ever happened. Ian thought he saw Damon watching him, but a second later he was laughing at something Cole had said, and Ian concluded that he must have imagined it.

Jade prattled on next to him, but all he could think that the whole trip was a waste of time (and money). He hadn’t found out where Mickey was and was now more worried than ever before about his whereabouts and what had happened to him and he’d ended up paying for weed he didn’t want or need. What a fucking success.

***  
It had been a week. A whole week and nothing from Mickey. Ian was lying on the couch in the empty Gallagher house staring at the ceiling feeling sorry for himself, finally coming to terms with the fact that Melissa had been right. He’d gone too deep too fast and scared Mickey away.

His mind also kept flitting to Damon’s bruised and bloody knuckles, and how sketchy he’d been acting… For a second Ian thought that they might have something to do with Mickey's inexplicable disappearance, but then again, Damon was Mickey’s best friend and it was much more likely that Mickey had just fucked off, not wanting to deal with him anymore.

He heaved a great sigh, deciding that he should probably do something like go apologise to Melissa or whatever. The thought of admitting his mistake to her made him scrunch up his face, he turned over so his face was planted firmly into the pillow and let out a muffled yell of frustration.

Right, he thought, time to face humiliation. He heaved himself off the couch, walking to the stairs to collect his coat which had been thrown onto the steps and shrugged it on. He walked to the back door and opened it only to meet the sight of a dishevelled looking Mickey Milkovich with his fist raised as if to knock on the door that was in front of him until I second ago. He looked pleased to see the redhead in front of him who was getting more and more furious with each millisecond that passed.

“Hey Gallagher, what are the chances!” Mickey said, gesturing to the door and their unplanned meeting. Ian stayed silent and Mickey’s smirk faltered. Just before he was going to ask Gallagher what the fuck was going on Ian got there first.

“What the fuck?!” Mickey startled in surprise, “A week! A whole week of no contact! I thought you’d died or some shit!” He was breathing heavily but continued, “If you don’t want to fuck anymore then you could have just told me instead of letting me worry! Have you only just grown the balls now to come and tell me? Well fuck you Mickey, you’ll never have to fu-“

Ian was silenced by Mickey stepping closer and covering the redhead’s mouth with his hand.

“Gallagher, shut the fuck up!” Mickey said, his face now inches away from Ian’s. “I’ve been on a business trip with my brothers. Chances are I’m going to take over the business when they either can’t be bothered anymore or some cheeky shit comes and offs them for things they did before my dad was put away. So when they go on business trips out of town I go with them so I can learn the tricks of the trade. They don’t let me take my phone – say I get too distracted texting Damon or some shit.”

The shorter boy felt Ian’s exhale, as the redhead actually looked at what Mickey was wearing. He looked unusually smart. A button down shirt with a black pants and a leather jacket. The more Ian looked the more turned on he got, Mickey suited smart.

“And for your information I do not want to stop fucking. Any time soon.” He smirked suggestively at the portion of Ian’s face he could actually see, and that smirk turned into a laugh as Ian’s hand reached forward to grab the lapels of Mickey’s jacket to pull him roughly into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S..I hate Caleb lol :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Tuesday again! Now there is some Ukrainian and some British slang in this chapter but everything will be translated in the notes at the end. Enjoy :)

“Okay, so we actually have to get some work done today.” Ian said, even as he grinned cheekily at Mickey who sat across from him, the only thing keeping them apart being the table loaded with sheets upon sheets of poem analysis and essay technique.

“You say that every time.” Mickey said, leaning back on his chair so that it only stood on two legs, sticking his tongue into the corner of his mouth and grinning back.

“You know one of these days you’re going to fall on your ass and I’m going to laugh.” Ian said, looking away from Mickey to sort through the papers in order to find the poem they’d been trying (and failing) to work on.

They’d been meeting at Ian’s or Mickey’s just as often as when they’d first started out – only difference was they got about ten times less work done than before. Each boy’s respective plan to smash and dash the other had failed miserably. Mickey thought that once would be enough, as did Ian, however now they literally couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It had been a week since Mickey had come back from the job with his brothers and the two boys had met for ‘tutoring sessions’ every day since, apart from Wednesday when Ian had ROTC.

Ian even went straight to Mickey’s from work on Saturday and Monday, the redhead praying to the heavenly father that the dark-haired boy wouldn’t smell some form of Kash on him.

They boys still weren’t an item, neither of them ever expecting to become so, but Ian couldn’t help but think that nothing good could come from him fucking Kash – or Mickey finding out about it, with the exception of a steady income for the Gallaghers as well as Fiona’s salary.

He knew he shouldn’t flatter himself by thinking that Mickey would care if he found out about him fucking his boss, but he just couldn’t help but think that something bad would happen if his fuck-buddy were to find out.

And he wasn’t wrong. Little to Ian’s knowledge, with every time Mickey saw Ian he’d come closer to realising that the thought of Ian being with anyone else would light a pit of fiery jealousy in him that only the reassurance that the redhead was only fucking Mickey would quench. Mickey didn’t know how he’d have time to fuck anyone else anyway – with work and ROTC and family nights he had almost zero time to do any homework let alone be hooking up with someone else.

Although family nights didn’t exist. Unless family nights were secretly nights where Ian would bike up to the North Side to meet his other lover that unlike Kash, he couldn’t really explain away. Ian didn’t know what it was with Ned, but he couldn’t help but surrender to his summons. Well… He did know, he just hated it.

Ian loved the lavish lifestyle. 5 star hotels, room service and expensive gifts, and no matter how much he liked Mickey he just couldn’t give him what the materialistic side of him craved. It was his guilty pleasure, and he and Mickey weren’t together. He was sure Mickey was fucking other people so why give up Ned and the perks of seeing him once in a while if he was, technically, single?

However, as Ian looked over at Mickey carefully studying the poem he’d just handed him, his face only a couple of inches from the page – he knew he felt bad. I mean, if things get serious with Mickey then obviously I would break things off with Ned. Ian thought reasonably, deep down knowing he was just giving himself an out. An excuse to never break things off with Ned, because Mickey would never tell him how he felt. He would never actively pursue Ian to be in a relationship. Ian felt his estimation of himself lower as he thought it. What a fucking cop out.

He needed to stop being a coward, even if he wasn’t with Mickey he’d actively lied and made up fucking ‘family night’ to keep it from the shorter boy, that alone erected a whopping great red flag to indicate that Ned, or any of the gifts weren’t worth it. Something Fiona used to say floated into his mind: If you have to lie about something – that something isn’t worth doing. Unless it’s a surprise party, then lie.

Enough is enough. Ian decided, he was going to break it off with Ned at their next rendezvous. Definitely. His mind subconsciously went through the same process it did when he’d told himself he’d break up with Kash: You’ve said this a million time before, and yet here we are.

But Ian Pushed the thought from his mind, this time would be different. The sudden sound of Mickey’s voice startled Ian from his reveries.

“Hello?! Earth to Gallagher?” Mickey was saying loudly, and Ian realised he must have been staring at nothing for a good minute and a half. Ian looked at Mickey questioningly. “Where’s the one about the pilot who dies? I think I’ve found a link.”

Ian reached searched for a few seconds before digging a single sheet out from underneath the pile and reaching across the table to give it to Mickey. The other boy also reached to meet him halfway, and as he did so the sleeve of his hoodie slid up his arm to reveal a long, thin scar etched into Mickey’s inner forearm, extending for about four inches right up to where his wrist met his hand. Ian eyed it curiously. He’d seen a scar like that before – when Monica had slit open her wrists on thanksgiving.

“Hey,” Ian said, his voice breaking during the word. He hadn’t noticed the lump tht had formed in his throat when he’d seen the scar, but Mickey did. “What happened there?” Ian asked softly.

“Oh, well it’s a funny story.” Mickey said in a much louder, almost forced tone whilst he quickly pulled down the sleeve that had exposed his arm with his other hand. “I was on a run with my brothers and my dad when I was about 12, but the feds caught up to us and I had to hop a fence to get away, but I didn’t realise it had barbed wire on it so it caught and I got that.” Mickey said, a little too fast. A little too forced, almost as though it had been rehearsed.

“It doesn’t look like it’s had stitches.” Ian said, still looking at Mickey’s arm even though it was now hidden by his baggy hoodie.

“Yeah well, a ton of people were after my dad so we couldn’t risk being seen at a public hospital so he told me to stop being a pussy and rub some dirt in it.” Mickey chuckled, even though he hadn’t looked Ian in the eye since he’d seen the scar. “He ah… wasn’t very good at parenting.”

Ian rolled his eyes as he thought about his sad excuse for parents. “Tell me about it, Frank and Monica were the worst parents you could ever get.” Mickey, who had been happy to change the topic of conversation away from himself averted his eyes from Ian at this point and stared at the floor for a second.

“Wow,” he said and Ian looked at him, Mickey’s eyes still fixed on the ground, Ian thought he looked much younger in that moment. “They must have been bad to be able to top my dad.” Mickey said, letting out a sad chuckle.

Ian paused at this. Mickey had told him that his father was in prion for life, so he couldn’t have been particularly nice, but the older boy had never voiced memories of extreme cruelty or neglect from his father. But looking at Mickey now, so dejected and seeming so small when talking about his dad, Ian thought that maybe it was worse than the thug was letting on.

“They were, man.” Ian said, hurrying to make Mickey laugh, smile, anything to alter the sad look on his face that was making Ian’s heart hurt. “We have this system, right, the squirrel fund. Everyone in the family works during the summer. No matter how old you are or anything, and we used to put it in a jar and hide it in one of the top shelves, and that money would save us during the winter, like literally save us.”

Ian looked at Mickey, and the older boy nodded to show that he was listening. “We’d use it for food, bills, everything. We kept it a secret, just the kids, because we knew what would happen if Frank or Monica found out about it. But one day in the Fall, they did… find out about it. Fiona came home from work with a pay-check, but when she went to put it into the fund all the money had gone. All of it.”

Mickey was now listening raptly, and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. “How much was in there?” He asked, as he pulled out his pack of smokes and lit one up.

“Must have been like, $5000? Maybe more?” Mickey’s eyebrows travelled even further up his head.

“Anyway,” Ian continued. “Fiona rang each of us asking if we’d taken the money, and when we’d all said no she worked out what must have happened. There was no point going to look for them, they could have been anywhere.”

Ian remembered when he and Lip had run as fast as he could all the way home from school, praying that some sort of mistake must had been made. By the time they’d got home he could hardly breathe, and all he could think about was how much he loathed his so-called ‘parents’.

“We’d all been home for about an hour when Fiona’d got the call.” He remembered seeing Fiona’s eyes widen in shock as she held the phone to her ear. “Turned out they’d taken the car, blown all the money on a shit load of drugs, gotten absolutely slaughtered and crashed into a stone pillar at 85 miles per hour.”

There was a few seconds of silence where Mickey smoked and Ian felt the familiar growth of rage that was reborn every time he recounted the story. He had no trouble telling people, it helped him remember that his parents had never cared about them – any of them. And it reminded him to be better. To be different.

“Was there any money left?” Mickey asked and Ian shook his head.

“Nothing.” To this day, it remained Ian’s worst memory. The fact that his parents had died was probably the most insignificant part of the day, they were hardly there anyway. No, it was everyone else’s reactions which made the memory so bitter, and so sad.

Fiona’s expression of pure anxiety as she no doubt tried to formulate a plan of how the hell they were going to survive the winter. Lip’s look of utter defeat, Frank and Monica had let them down for a final time, in the worst possible way. Carl’s silent mourning, not talking to anyone, just sitting on the stairs and repeatedly, methodically chucking his throwing stars into the opposite wall before retrieving them and starting all over again. Ian still remembers the metronomic thump, thump, thump like it was yesterday, sometimes he thinks he can hear it in his head.

Debbie’s wails and sobs of despair at the passing of Frank and Monica – still too young to realise what type of people her parents were, and Liam’s quiet sobs in Fiona’s arms. To this day, Ian didn’t know if Liam had understood what had happened, he guessed all the heightened emotion that had been packed into the tiny room had set him off.

Mickey was watching Gallagher quietly, still puffing away on his cigarette. The redhead hadn’t spoken in about two minutes, and Mickey could feel the emotion radiating off him like heat as he recalled that day. He wanted to hug him or just do something to stop him thinking about what was making him so upset, but he’d never been taught how to deal with emotion. So he just played it by ear, and tried to cheer Ian up the only way he thought he could.

He stood up silently, Ian didn’t appear to notice, and rounded the table to kneel in front of the redhead so he’d look at him.

“You okay?” He asked, trying to meet Ian’s gaze and resting his hands on each of Ian’s rather knobbly knees.

“Yeah.” Ian said, his eyes surprisingly dry. Mickey just thought he looked numb.

“Good.” Mickey said, before smirking and reaching for the zipper to Ian’s flies.

***

  
Mickey couldn’t stifle the tiny smile on his face as he pulled up outside the drab, cream coloured building in his shitty little Honda CVCC that Joey had got him for his 16th birthday - an old cast off from the garage. You’d wonder why anyone would be excited to see this rundown, windowless building with paint peeling off the walls and several of the faded letters stuck to the wall missing but every time Ian saw it he felt his spirits lift.

Those letters now read “CHIC JUVEN E TE PO ARY DETENTI N CENTR “ when in actual fact it should have said “CHICAGO JUVENILE TEMPORARY DETENTION CENTRE”, and the answer was that whenever Mickey saw this sad, bleak building he knew he was about to see his favourite person in the world.

“Mickey Milkovich.” He said to the grumpy looking woman behind the desk, who’d been there since Mickey had started visiting a year and a half ago. Mickey wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d told him that she hadn’t moved from that very spot for the entirety of that time.

“Hello. Here for Amanda I suppose?” She said as she looked down the list of inmates who were expecting visitors that day.

“Yep.” Mickey said, rocking on the balls of his feet, anxious to get through the security check so he could see his sister.

“Go over there for your security check, then go through the metal detector on to the visitor’s room.” She continued in a bored voice. “I am obliged to tell you that the visitor’s room is constantly monitored with guards present at all times, so any passing of legal or illegal substances to the inmates-“

“May result in my prosecution, I know.” Mickey cut across, having heard the same speech a million times. “Don’t worry Wanda, this isn’t my first time at the rodeo.” Wanda said nothing, but gave Mickey a dry look. Mickey just winked and headed over to the security guard. When Mickey’s back was turned Wanda’s eyes couldn’t help but widen.

How the god damned hell did that white boy know my name?! She thought to herself, Mickey smirked to himself and wondered how long it would take her to realise she had a name tag on.

The security check went more or less smoothly. They confiscated his smokes and there was a bit of a palaver when the guard found a well-hidden switch-blade in Mickey’s sock, which he insisted he’d forgotten was there.

He walked through the metal detector and practically kicked down the door in his haste to get into the visitor’s room.

Mandy was already sat at a table, dressed in a white tank and grew sweatpants with her hair tied back in a high pony and her fringe lying below her eyebrows, leant back leisurely in the chair which was nailed to the floor. She was looking around menacingly at anyone who dared to make eye contact with her and Mickey’s heart sped up slightly. He’d missed her a lot.

“агов, невдаха!” He said loudly as he approached her. Her head spun at the sound of her second language, and her intimidating expression was replaced immediately with a large grin.

“Залупа!” She said, and Mickey smirked at the insult he took as a term of endearment.

“How goes it?” Mickey asked, throwing himself into the chair opposite his sister, his legs stretched out in a languid manner.

“Same old, same old.” She replied, eyeing Mickey up as she always did when she hadn’t seen him in a while. “How’re things with you?”

“Fine,” Mickey said, thinking immediately about Ian and rubbing his bruised neck self-consciously. “Nothing much going on. I had to get a tutor for school and- Oh shut up!” he said, as Mandy had sniggered at the mention of a tutor.

“сука…” he said grumpily, before continuing. “For your information, my grades are going way up, I might actually have a chance at going to college or some shit.” He said, avoiding Mandy’s eye as though looking at her would make the statement more boastful.

“That’s good, lil’ bro.” She said, making Mickey roll his eyes as she was well aware he was a year older than her. “What about Colin and Joey though? I thought you were gonna take over the business?” She fiddled absentmindedly with a loose string on her sweats, looking suddenly downcast. Mickey assumed that the talk of school and college were touchy subjects for her, being locked in here.

“Only if they get shot up.” Mickey said matter-of-factly. “Anyway you’ll probably do that instead.” He thought that trying to remind her that she did have some kind of future ahead of her was the best thing to do right now. “You’ve only got six months left in this shit hole anyway.”

Looking around the shabby visitor’s room, Mickey couldn’t help but feel for his sister. This must be a truly awful place to be, and for so long in Mandy’s case. He himself had never been to juvi, his brothers were always in and out but since his dad had died things had been different. He knew that Colin and Joey would kill him if he ever got sent to a place like this, and he remembered how much Iggy had disliked being there. It’d always been one of his personal goals: not to end up in a place like this. Or any prison of any kind. He planned on keeping to it.

“Yeah well, time’s moving faster these days.” Mandy said, smirking.

“Oh yeah?” Mickey asked curiously. His sister took a quick, furtive look around before leaning closer to Mickey conspiratorially. Intrigued, Mickey mirrored her actions, looking around him and leaning closer.

“I’ve got myself a bitch.” Mandy said in a whisper, and Mickey snorted, leaning away and chuckling.

“Didn’t know you were into that shit.” Mickey said.

“I’m not,” she replied, earning an eye-roll from Mickey as she too returned to her relaxed stance in her chair. “But a girl’s gotta get her juices flowin’ somehow in here.” She said, looking around the room with pronounced distaste on her face. Mickey groaned in discomfort but laughed all the same.

They sat and chatted for a while, Mickey deciding against telling Mandy about Ian for the moment. Right now he and the redhead were in their own little secretive bubble, and telling his sister would no doubt burst it. Their hour was up too soon, and as he stood up to hug her, he couldn’t help but wonder when he would see her next. Visits had to planned way in advance, and even then sometimes things go awry and end up not happening, so you never really knew.

They hugged, both holding on tight. Mandy was the only person Mickey hugged, and even hugging her was awkward sometimes.

“Say hi to Iggy for me.” She whispered, and Mickey hugged her tighter. They parted, and without warning Mandy socked him hard in the arm.

“Ow, Що за нахуй?!” He exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot.

“You smell of cigarettes. I want one so bad I swear to god I’m going to buy out the whole of the fucking Kash and Grab when I get out.” And with that she was off, being hurried along by the guards back through the door Mickey assumed she’d come from. She looked back once more to give Mickey a cheeky grin before she vanished out of sight.

Mickey’s heart sank slightly. Whenever he saw her, it was like they were just chilling at home, like they used to before Mandy’d got involved with the mystery man. The man who’d put her here in the first place.

Mickey still didn’t know who it was, but Mandy had gotten involved with someone. Someone bad. No doubt some crackhead who’d thought she was vulnerable. He’d befriended her, made her feel special, as though he only cared about her. Turns out he only cared about feeding his addiction. He’d persuaded her to pick up some drugs for him, on some corner of a South Side street. Little did Mandy know that her mystery man knew there was going to be a horde of cops waiting for the dealer to turn up.

The cops did turn up, and arrested the dealer along with Mandy for possession of a substantial amount of class A drugs. And this having not been Mandy’s first offence getting her more time in juvie than the crime warranted. She was fucking 15 when it had happened, and if Mickey ever found the son of a bitch who had done that to his sister he swore to God he would kill them, it was their fault Mandy was locked up in there, their fault that Mickey missed her the way he did every single day, their fault Mickey was alone. But Mandy had always remained silent on the identity of the man who threw her none to gently under the bus.

It was dark by the time Mickey drove back into the heart of the city. The bright lights of the North Side never failed to amaze him, though he’d never admit this to anyone. According to everyone else, the South Side was more than enough for Mickey Milkovich, and the boy himself wanted it to stay that way. He was tired and grumpy at knowing that was the last time he was going to see Mandy for another however many months, he wanted nothing more than to text Ian asking to meet up.

However he had something to do. He’d said to himself that he’d visit Iggy after he’d seen Mandy, and that’s exactly what he intended on doing. He needed to vent, well not vent, just to tell someone about Ian, anyone. He’d already talked to his brother about him, but so much had changed since he’d first mentioned him. He wanted to update Iggy on the proceedings.

This all may sound strange, as Iggy was dead but Mickey wasn’t crazy, or in denial or any of that shit he just liked talking to his brother. A tiny niggling thought always entered Mickey’s brain when he thought this – maybe the only reason he was visiting his brother was to quench thee guilt of what had happened… But he always pushed it aside. It wasn’t true. He just missed him.

He parked the car in the tiny carpark of the church and made his way around the back of the building and picked his way through the graves to find Iggy’s. Someone had cleaned up the debris that had lain around the headstone, and Mickey frowned at the altercation.

So he took his usual space, back leaning against the headstone and lit up a smoke. Making sure to leave it on top of the grave when he was done.

***

Ian was peacefully watching Kill Bill with Carl, his eyes starting to droop despite the violent, noisy nature of the film. The darkness of the night had settled over the house, the glowing fluorescent light the only thing illuminating his younger brother’s face and keeping Ian from letting sleep wash over him just as the darkness had.

However he’d just dropped off when his phone vibrating in his pocket startled him awake. Carl snorted next to him and Ian glared through the darkness in his brother’s general direction before unlocking his phone and wincing at the bright light, his eyes taking a moment to adjust.

**[Mickey – 00:12]  
Where are you?**

Ian frowned at the text. He hadn’t heard from Mickey all day, which was not yet unusual and Ian hadn’t expected to hear from him till the morning.

**[Me – 00:12]  
At my house with Carl?**

Ian didn’t have to wait long for an explanation.

**[Mickey – 00:13]  
K, let me in. Outside.**

Ian’s eyes widened, he looked over to Carl who was completely uninterested in Ian’s actions. Ian stood up and walked over to the window which looked out the front of the house and onto the road and pulled back the curtain slightly, so a sliver of light was cast into the room, illuminating his brother who remained sat on the sofa. Sure enough there stood Mickey, peering at his phone and swaying slightly. Ian looked down at his phone but it didn’t tell him that Mickey was typing, meaning he was texting someone else.

“Is Fiona home?” Ian asked Carl, not taking his eyes off the boy in the front yard.

“Yeah, she went to bed ages ago.” Carl said, eyes fixed on the television.

“Yep time for you to go as well.” Ian said, looking at Carl to find the younger boy giving him a disgusted look. “To bed I mean.” Ian clarified.

“I knew what you meant, but I ain’t listenin’ to shit you say, I got things to do and people to see.” He got up and moved towards the front door.

“No!” Ian said, grabbing Carl’s arm. The boy gave Ian an even more halff disgusted, half incredulous look.

“What now?! Fuckin’ hell!” He said, and Ian was at a loss, all he knew was that Carl couldn’t see Mickey here so late at night. He knew people. The new little crime syndicate Carl was running put him in touch with some dodgy people, no doubt intensely homophobic dodgy people. Hell, he may even know Cole. Anything could be let slip.

“Go out the back.” Ian improvised. “Fiona’ll be less likely to hear you if you go out the back.” Ian knew this would bee a long shot seeing as his brother didn’t seem to give a shit who heard or saw what he did these days, however the long shot paid off as Carl was appeased.

“Good to know homie, hadn’t thought of that. Safe one my G.” Ian rolled his eyes and called after Carl as he walked through the house to the back door.

“For fuck sake you need to stop talking like that!” Carl just flipped him the bird before slamming the back door shut behind him. Ian waited twenty five seconds to make sure he was one hundred percent gone before he headed for the door, almost breaking into a jog to get to Mickey.

He opened the door and was hit by the cold air of the December evening. He walked down the steps to meet the boy by the front gate, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth as he did so.

“Mickey? What’s going on?” Mickey turned and grinned at the sight of Ian in his sweats and jumper all wrapped up around himself.

“Gallagher! Як поживаєш?” Even though Mickey seemed slightly out of sorts and was slurring his words slightly, Ian was ninety percent sure that Mickey had just spoken a different language.

“Huh?” Ian said, eyeing Mickey warily.

“Oh,” Mickey said, raising his eyebrows and squeezing his eyes shut for a second while still swaying on the spot. “Sorry… Happens sometimes, you know?”

“Um, yeah?” The taller boy said unsurely. He didn’t know how the boy in front of him wasn’t shivering, then he realised that in his haste he’d forgotten to put any shoes on and that his toes were slowly numbing.

Mickey reached a hand out as if to steady himself but found nothing to stabilise himself. For a second he looked as though he was going to fall over but then stilled himself at the last minute. His eyelids seemed to be drooping.

“Where have you been?” Ian asked, trying to stifle a smile at Mickey’s blatant intoxication.

“Bar.” Mickey replied simply, his hand at last finding the gate that he could hold on to to prevent himself from falling.

“I can see that, you’re absolutely trollied.” Ian said, sniggering as he watched Mickey teeter despite his firm hold on the gate. He snorted at Ian’s laugh.

“Shut up.” He said before belching. “Been a rough day. I went to see… then, then I went to visit-“ But before Mickey could finish his sentence, the gate to the yard had opened without warning, with Mickey’s hand still firmly attached to it.

The dark haired boy suddenly fell backwards as the gate flung open, Mickey’s entire weight finally too much for it. Ian gasped and lunged for the shorter boy, grabbing his forearm and waist just in time to keep him from falling flat on his ass.

He drew Mickey to him, their faces inches apart. Mickey was looking at him, and Ian knew it, this was the moment. Their first kiss, he could feel Mickey inching closer, his eyes flickering from Ian’s to his lips and back. He was just about to close his eyes and let Mickey take the lead, when Mickey let out a tiny burp and promptly blew it towards Ian right into his face. It smelt of beer and cigarettes.

“Oh my god.” Ian said, “You’re such a dick!” Mickey erupted into laughter as Ian fake-retched. Ian pushed Mickey off him and turned to walk back into the house, only to feel a body jump onto his back. Yes, Mickey Milkovich had actively initiated a piggy-back. Ian snorted and hooked his arms under Mickey’s legs to keep him secure.

He carried Mickey into the house and instructed him to kick the door shut, which he did. He tried to deposit the drunk boy on the couch, but Mickey was having none of it. His legs firmly latched around Ian’s middle.

Ian even sat on the couch, only to have Mickey giggle and tighten his hold around his neck and middle, with no intention of unlatching himself anytime soon.

Ian hadn’t really taken a moment to realise what was happening. Mickey was being playful and open, laughing at Ian and just generally goofing around. For a second Ian admitted to himself that he would trade at least half the sex the two boys had for Mickey to act like this around him all the time.

And even as Mickey bit playfully at the back of Ian’s neck, the taller boy found himself awash with a wave of jealousy of Damon, Matt and even Cole. This was the Mickey they got all the time, the Mickey that would be forcefully taken away from him the next morning. Little did he know that Mickey hadn’t seen any of his friends, even Damon for a whole week.

His feelings of animosity dissipated somewhat when he felt the boy on his back place a soft kiss to his shoulder, which soon turned into a ‘kiss’ that would surely result in a deep purple blotch on his neck. Ian gasped at the feeling, but he knew he had to get Mickey to stop. If he went downstairs with Mickey in the morning with a new hickey he didn’t have the night before… The jig would be up.

“Come on then, that’s enough for tonight.” He heaved himself off the sofa and carried Mickey up the stairs to his room. Since Lip had moved to college, Ian had taken his room. It’s finally warranted him some privacy in this circus of a house.

Mickey only let go of Ian when the taller boy was right next to his bed. Upon realising there was an actual bed beneath him he promptly let go of Ian, falling then bouncing on the bed, however he attempted to pull Ian down with him, but he resisted.

“Mickey, we can’t. You’re shitfaced and I’m tired as fuck.” Ian sighed.

“Gallagher, Я хочу тебе виїбати.” Ian was sure of it that time. Mickey had legit spoken a different language. He looked at the dark haired boy who even as he’d spoken, had let his eyes drift closed, sprawled on the bed.

“What is that, Russian?” Ian asked, not even sure if he would reply.

“Pfft, fuck off. It’s Ukrainian.” Ian raised his eyebrows in shock, barely hearing Mickey’s inaccurate imitation of him: “Is it Russian? My ass Gallagher.”

“Are you fluent?”

“Yup.” He said, popping the P. “We all are, but me and… we’re the only ones who speak it to each other.”

Ian wondered who Mickey was talking about. If he’d missed out their name on purpose, or maybe even forgotten, being in the current state he was in. And Ian remembered what he’d been meaning to ask the boy since, he’d realised Mickey was sloshed. Why was he sloshed?

“Mickey, who did you visit today?” However, upon looking at the boy he realised his pupil had fallen asleep, mouth slightly open, spread-eagled across the bed.

Ian sighed and got up, shutting his door and taking off his jumped too leave him torso bare. He then took Mickey’s boots, coat and jumped off to leave him in skinny black jeans and an old Metallica T-shirt. It was actually a very good look for him, and Ian couldn’t help but just look at him for a minute.

He looked so effortlessly beautiful in that moment, face pressed into the duvet and hair messily draped over his forehead. Ian smiled for a second, before reaching forward and kneeling on the bed to roll Mickey into a position which left enough room for Ian himself to slide in next to him.

He draped the duvet over the older boy and got under the covers himself. He’d purposely turned Mickey so that Ian could see his face, which for once held no smirk, no grimace, no glare, just a relaxed, peaceful expression that Ian studied carefully, making sure it was permanently etched into his brain until his eyes drooped and he, too fell asleep.

***

  
Ian didn’t open his eyes when he woke, but just basked in the knowledge that he didn’t have to get up anytime soon. But then he remembered Mickey. Shit, he was absolutely battered last night, he should probably get him some water and aspirin, and maybe some breakfast.

However when Ian opened his eyes to rouse the boy and ask if he wanted bacon, pancakes or both, the older boy and all evidence of his ever being in the room had gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> агов, невдаха – Hey, loser!  
> Залупа – Dickhead  
> Сука – Bitch  
> Що за нахуй - what the fuck  
> Як поживаєш – How’s it going  
> Я хочу тебе виїбати - I want to fuck you  
> Sloshed/battered/trollied – British slang for drunk (sorry) 
> 
> P.S. Yay Mandy! I'm sad to say , though it pains my heart Svetlana won't feature in this fic :(


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say this every week but seriously cannot understand how Tuesdays come around so fast...  
> P.S. A tiny bit of Ukrainian in here so if I've got it wrong do not hesitate to correct me!

Ian hadn’t been angry at Mickey for leaving without saying goodbye, I mean what did he expect? For he and Mickey to sit at the table they usually used for studying to drink coffee and eat pancakes? Denying that this was exactly what he expected to happen, Ian got on with his day and waited patiently for Mickey to contact him.

Because even if Mickey had scarpered that morning, he was quite sure they were past the stage of bailing on their whole… relationship or whatever the fuck it was just because of one slightly embarrassing incident.

And he wasn’t wrong. That evening Mickey texted him asking to schedule a study session for the next day, and Ian felt the pleasant flame of satisfaction burn within him. He waited five minutes before texting Mickey back a simple ‘okay’, playing it extra cool.

However, Ian wasn’t the only one ‘playing it cool’, but he was the only one of the pair who was remotely relaxed.

***

  
Mickey paced the sitting room of the Milkovich house, mind racing a mile a minute. What the fuck had happened last night? He remembered walking from Iggy’s grave to a nearby bar, the stresses of the day finally getting to him – but after that? Zilch. He didn’t remember contacting Gallagher, seeing him or… anything else he’d said or done. And that worried him. It didn’t help that his head was still fucking pounding due to the vast quantity of spirit he’d consumed the bight before.

There were certain things that he hadn’t yet done or said to Ian, sober or otherwise. Like told Ian that he genuinely liked him, or that he wanted to spend time with him outside their sessions without being under the false pretence of doing school work, and he’d never kissed him.

The worrying factor was that he could have genuinely done any of those things, and he wouldn’t have a fucking clue. Those things all being acts that he wasn’t ready to deal with the aftermath of. Fuck. He had to find out what had happened. He texted Ian.

Mickey threw himself onto the couch and heaved a huge sigh. He expected Ian to reply within a minute, but surprisingly found himself staring at the yellow smoke stains on the ceiling for a lot longer than that. He couldn’t help but panic that maybe he’d said something the previous night that Gallagher hadn’t wanted to hear, and now he was ignoring him.

But he’d thought too soon, and he scrambled sloppily for his phone as soon as he felt it vibrate.

**[Matchstick Nerd – 19:07]  
Okay.**

What the fuck? Mickey let out an aggravated yell of frustration before shooting off another text.

**[Me – 19:07]  
Wanna get high?**

He got up off the sofa, he was gonna smoke this blunt whether he came or not. He got up and walked to his room to get his stash, he didn’t even know why he hid it, being the only one in the house but old habits die hard.

Just as he replaced the loose floorboard under his bed his phone vibrated again. He shimmied himself back out and crouched while he unlocked his phone.

**[Damon the Shithead – 19:10]  
On My Way!**

Then, not a second later:

**[Damon the Shithead – 19:10]  
Omw*. Fuck sake autocorrect.**

Mickey snorted, and couldn’t help but admit he was excited to see his best friend. Ten minutes later, Mickey was lying on the couch, controller in hand engaged in a particularly violent tussle with a CGI zombie. The front door opened and Damon entered the house, toeing off his boots and shucking his coat off, removing a beanie to reveal his tousled brown hair. He dumped his coat on the floor and walked over to Mickey, sitting rather heavily next to his best friend, making to sofa slide backwards slightly on the hardwood floor.

“Yo.” Mickey said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“How’s it going?” Damon asked, groping around in his jean pocket for a lighter for his smoke. “Haven’t seen you in a fuckin’ age. The boys are getting worried.”

“Been busy,” Mickey half-lied. He had been busy with Ian, but he could easily make time for his friends.

“I see, with the new woman?” Damon watched closely for Mickey’s reaction, he just nodded, pretending to still be too absorbed in the game to pay attention. Damon didn’t buy it. He knew what was going down, he just really didn’t want to believe it. If he knew what he thought he knew, Mickey was in dangerously risky territory, and he didn’t even want to imagine the repercussions of the wrong people finding out.

He imagined that Mickey thought he himself was a ‘wrong person’, but it wasn’t true. Mickey was his best friend, and he’d always kind of suspected something, with the way Mickey used to subtly check out the footballers doing drills through the gaps of the bleachers when they sat beneath them. Granted, it wasn’t easy to tell, but you pay attention to these things when your best friend is concerned.

But, just because he didn’t really care about Mickey’s sexual preferences didn’t mean he wanted Mickey to actively tell him about them. It wasn’t because he was iffy about knowing the ins and outs of a gay relationship (he could connect the dots), it was just that it was safer that he didn’t know. Safer for him and Mickey. If somehow, god forbid Cole found out, it would be better for Mickey if he’d told no one. This allowed Mickey to have an ally on the inside, who could maybe dissuade Cole from making any rash decisions while appearing to be on his side.

Damon smirked. Sometimes, he thought he was pretty smart.

“The fuck are you smiling at?” Mickey suddenly asked, pulling Damon from his thoughts.

“The fuckin’ graphics on this man, they’re shit.”

“Shut up?” Mickey said, looking aghast that Damon had even dared to criticise the game. “Like either of us can afford anything over COD5. Nazi Zombies are the shit.” Mickey said, then made a low growl of annoyance in his throat when his avatar was bitten to death by one of the aforementioned ‘Nazi Zombies’.

Damon just snorted and rolled his eyes, before reaching over to snatch the controller from Mickey.

“Look man, you asked me here to get high. So is it gonna happen or am I gonna have to go under the floorboard myself?” Mickey rolled his eyes and reached for the weed and papers while Damon started a new game.

***

The next night, Mickey walked up the stairs to the Gallagher’s back door and felt as though he was about to open the door into the lion’s den. He didn’t know what the fuck he’d said or done, but the redhead’s blunt reply last night made Mickey think that is couldn’t have been good.

His time with Damon had made him forget about the whole Gallagher situation, and had calmed his nerves somewhat. However standing at the door now, they all returned in full swing and he felt like he could feel his heart beat in his throat.

Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door twice. For a second, Mickey considered running, then he heard movement on the other side of the wood and he knew it was too late. It opened to reveal Ian in a tight white T-shirt and grey sweats (a sight that never failed to turn Mickey on) and a smile on his face.

“Hey!” he said jubilantly. He moved away from the door, leaving it open for Mickey to walk through. “How’re you feeling? Wouldn’t be surprised If you were still hungover.” Mickey tentatively stepped over the threshold. He couldn’t help but be surprised at Gallagher’s reaction to seeing him, maybe it hadn’t been that bad.

“Um yeah, I was pretty bad yesterday morning, felt like I’d been hit by a truck.” Ian smirked at him, taking a seat at the table which was once again cluttered with all things poetry.

“Well I’m not surprised, you really were fucked.”

“Um yeah, about that…” Mickey started, taking his coat off and hanging it over the back of what he now considered to be his chair. “What uh… actually happened?”

Ian gave him a dry look. Typical the redhead thought. Just typical. “Well... what do you remember?”

“Um… Walking to the bar on the way back from-“ Mickey stopped himself from accidentally blabbing about Iggy just in time, which didn’t go unnoticed by the other boy. “Just walking to the bar.”

Ian gave him a strange look, before seeming to disregard the slip. “Well you texted me demanding me to let you in, then when I came out to meet you, you jumped on my back and didn’t let go for a good twenty minutes.”

Mickey could feel his whole body heating up with pure embarrassment. _What the fuck, man?_ He asked himself. But that wasn’t all.

“Then you tried to fuck me but when I refused because you were fucked, you proceeded to proclaim your everlasting love for me.”

Mickey literally felt his heart stop. His eyes widened of their own accord and he could feel his face turning beet fucking red, until:

“Fuck, I’m joking man.” Ian said, giving Mickey a confused but cheeky look. Mickey’s heart started beating extremely fast, the redhead continued. “Why… would you have- did you believe me?” _Fuck?! Now he’s gonna think I’m in love with him because I believed him when he said I said I was in love with him._ Mickey replayed that sentence about three times in his head before he actually understood it.

“Fuck off,” Mickey improvised, not knowing what the fuck to do. “I didn’t believe you… obviously.” However Mickey couldn’t ignore the fleeting thought that flew through his brain – he was kind of disappointed that in his drunken state, hadn’t said anything of the sort…

Ian gave Mickey a skeptical look before continuing. “Yeah you didn’t do that. You did speak a different language though. Well, I’m ninety percent sure you did…” He got up and walked around the counter to the fridge. “You might have just been slurring your words or-“

“I wasn’t.” Mickey said. It seemed the only personal thing he’d done was reveal his first language. “It was probably Ukrainian.”

Ian turned around, swallowing his gulp of Sunny D before exclaiming: “Huh?!”

“Yeah…” Mickey said, might as well tell him now. “Ukrainian’s my mother tongue, we were brought up speaking it.”

“Really?” Ian said thoughtfully. “Well, you learn something new every day.”

Mickey just knew what was coming next, and he was having none of it. Ian paused to think before confirming Mickey’s predictions.

“Will you say something-“

“No.” Mickey interrupted.

“Aw come on Mick!” Ian said, grinning cheekily as he rounded the counter and approached a still standing Mickey who extended his hands, ready to push Gallagher away him. “Just say something for me, something sexy.” Ian said, his voice lowering suggestively.

“No, Gallagher. Fuck off!” Mickey said even as he laughed, trying to fend off a groping Ian who was trying to touch any part of the thug he could reach.

Mickey was backed up against the wall next to the back door, gradually becoming caged by Ian. Before long Mickey had given up, letting Ian press himself against him, slowly grinding onto him making Mickey gasp.

“Come on Mick, just say something…” Ian whispered into Mickey’s ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth. He was going to make Mickey say it, he was.

“Fuck,” Mickey said, reaching down to stuff his hands down the redhead’s pants. Ian chuckled, his light breath on his neck sending shivers down Mickey’s spine. Before long Ian had mirrored Mickey’s actions – undoing his jeans and reaching to grasp Mickey’s dick while using the other hand to squeeze his ass. They continued like that for a bit, before Ian decided he’d gotten bored.

He withdrew his hand from Mickey’s pants and spun the shorter boy around. Mickey also removed his hand from Ian’s sweats as he was turned, and instead used them to brace himself against the wall. Ian slid his hand underneath Mickey’s shirt whilst hastily spitting on the other and sloppily preparing his hole.

Mickey was huffing and puffing at Ian’s actions but soon got impatient.

“Come on, man. Fuck me already.”

Ian smirked and bit Mickey’s neck playfully. He used his hand inside Mickey’s pants to grasp his hip and pull him away from the wall, leading him over to the table still littered with poem analyses.

“Bend over.” Ian instructed, his voice low and raspy. Mickey did as we was told and bent so his torso was resting on the table. Ian then pulled the shorter boy’s jeans over his ass to reveal his hole, ready and waiting.

Ian smirked at the sight of Mickey all obedient and ready for him. Without further ado he jacked his dick a few times, before lining himself up and pushing into his tight heat. Both boys groaned as Ian bottomed out, and as soon as it had happened it was gone. Ian had pulled right out of Mickey, he was determined to make Mickey say _something. Anything._ And fucking him senseless seemed to be the best incentive.

He realigned and sharply pushed himself back in. Mickey gasped as his hands closed around the edge of the table, his knuckles white. Ian didn’t pull out this time, but set a blistering pace, aiming to find the shorter boy’s prostate as soon as possible.

About two minutes in, Mickey suddenly let out a loud, unbidden groan amidst his panting and Ian knew he’d found the jackpot, and good thing too because at the rate he was going he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Before long Mickey was writhing underneath him, the constant stimulation of his prostate driving him insane. His hand closed over a sheet of paper and he balled his fist, feeling the paper crumple inside it.

With that, Ian’s hand found Mickey’s hip and he gripped hard, making Mickey gasp. As Mickey’s shirt rode up, Ian caught a glimpse of what seemed to be the ends of two long lines extending the length of Mickey’s back right down to his hip, Ian thought he had a good idea of what they were. However he pushed them from his mind and concentrated on the mission at hand.

The taller boy leant over Mickey so his torso was pressed flat against his back. He kissed the boy’s shoulder lightly, then without warning bit the place he’d just kissed so tenderly.

“чорт візьми!” Mickey shouted, spasming as he came onto the table beneath him. Just hearing Mickey say those words turned Ian on so much he came right then and there, breathing heavily, still laying flat across Mickey’s back.

They stayed like that for a second, before Mickey attempted to stand straight.

“You better get off, or my come will dry on this table. Where you eat. Plus you weigh about a million pounds, fucking hell.” Ian stood upright, his chest covered in sweat, dampening his shirt, as was Mickey’s back.

Mickey used the hem of his shirt to wipe up the come he’d left on the wooden table before turning to Ian, a disgruntled look on his face.

“What was this about?!” He said indignantly, lifting his shirt to expose the red marks Ian had made on his hip just before he’d come.

“Payback, for this!” Ian said, reaching behind Mickey to retrieve the analysis of ‘The Fisherman’ that Mickey’d scrunched up in his fist. “These notes took me forever, dick.”

Mickey snorted, and Ian looked at him… Mickey couldn’t explain the expression, but fond he guessed, as though he found Mickey to be the most endearing person on the planet.

“The Ukrainian is sexy, I came just hearing you speak it.” He said matter-of-factly, eyeing Mickey intently. The older boy stifled a smile and looked at his hands which were currently pointlessly organising the paper’s he’d messed up, blushing somewhat.

“Maybe I’ll teach you some.” He said, and Ian raised his eyebrows, evidently surprised.

“I’d like that.” Ian said genuinely, and Mickey found himself already looking forward to the prospect of spending more time with the redhead. Ian opened his mouth to speak again but was cut off by the sound of the front door opening. He looked towards Mickey, expecting the other boy to grab his shit and run, like he had every other time anyone had walked in on them – no matter how innocent the circumstances.

But he stayed put, looking towards the living room to see who had entered the house. Fiona came into view, wrapped up in a coat and scarf over her business-wear and looking at her phone. The boys stayed silent and she didn’t look up as she entered the kitchen, opened the fridge and took out some milk, taking a swig straight from the carton. Mickey made a disgusted face.

“Ew.” He said, and Fiona let out a yell of fright, turning on the spot and throwing everything she was holding up into the air in surprise – her phone, her purse and the carton of milk, which fell to the floor, spilling milk everywhere.

“Fuck!” She shouted, a hand on her chest as though clutching her heart. “Don’t fucking do that!” She said, Ian and Mickey fell silent once again, Ian’s lips pursed and Mickey pinching his nose in an attempt to stop himself from bursting into laughter.

It failed. Mickey let out a great huff of laughter and Ian couldn’t hold it in any longer. Both boys crescendoed until they were positively howling.

“Oh my god,” Mickey said, his stomach starting to ache as he gripped onto his chair to keep himself upright.

“That, was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” Ian said, struggling for breath as he braced himself against the nearest wall.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up.” Fiona said, grabbing the kitchen roll off the counter and bending down the start mopping up the spilt milk. “That was almost a full carton. We barely have enough dough to get us through the weekly shop and now I have to spend it on replacing this.”

At that, the boys’ laughter steadily decreased. Ian bit his lip before hastily rounding the counter to help his sister clean up the mess. He crouched on the floor, half to help Fiona and half to hide his face as it blushed with embarrassment. He knew that no one who lived on the South Side was particularly wealthy, but he found it awkward talking about what little money his family really had in front of others.

“Don’t worry Fi,” he said quietly, “I’ll get some more on my next shift.”

“It’s okay,” she said, straightening up and dumping the wet paper towels in the bin. “Are you staying for dinner, Mickey? Lip said he’d get us some mac and cheese from the university.”

“Nah, I’m alright.” Mickey said, gathering up his things from the table. “I’ve got to get going, see you later Gallagher.”

“See ya.” Fiona and Ian said in unison, who then looked at each other as though each thought the other one crazy for having answered to their shared second name. Mickey however, didn’t seem to care and was gone before either of them could comment on it.

Ian walked back to the kitchen table and started to collect his own work. Fiona steadied herself with a hand against the counter, studying Ian carefully, and the redhead just knew what was coming.

“I don’t like him.” His sister said, and he rolled his eyes.

“Great.” He said mockingly.

“I’m serious, Ian. He’s rough, he’s rude and he never stays for dinner. What kind of boyfriend is he?”

“Not my boyfriend.” Ian said, not looking at Fiona just continuing to steadily organise and pack away his notes.

“I guessed, the way he runs out of here like a bat out of hell whenever I’m around.” Fiona said dryly.

“It’s not only you, he does that to everyone.” Ian said, rushing to Mickey’s defence, if that even was a defence.

“Like that makes it any better? I’ve seen the tattoos, Ian. He’s bad news. That whole family is bad news.”

Ian wouldn’t be surprised if he was looked as though he had some form of nystagmus, he was rolling his eyes so much. “You don’t know his family, his brothers have a legit car dealership business. Nothing dodgy at all.” He said. He shouldn’t have to explain this to her at all.

“Nothing dodgy?!” She said in disbelief. “Look, I know you think you like him,” Ian heaved a great sigh. “But after having a father who did what Terry Milkovich did… That’s got to fuck a person up, hon. You may not be able to… I don’t know, fix him.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Terry. Mickey still hadn’t told him how his father had ended up doing twenty to life but somehow Fiona seemed to know…

“What did Terry-“ Ian started, but was cut off by the back door banging open, making both parties jump in surprise.

“Fucking hell not again,” Fiona said, having jumped out of her skin for the second time that day. “Wait, Liam?! Carl, what happened?!”

Carl had entered the house leading a bloody faced (but grinning) Liam by the hand. Fiona immediately reached for the phone.

“He fell off his bike, got a nosebleed.” Carl supplied.

“I got a no-bleed!” Liam yelled, making Ian smile.

“Hey V, it’s Fi. Liam’s fallen off his bike and he’s bleeding pretty bad, you mind coming over?” There was a pause. “Okay, thanks. See you in a minute.”

And with all the sudden drama, the thought of Terry, life sentencing and unforgivable crimes were pushed out of Ian’s head.

***

To the ignorant eye, Ned Lishman would seem to be the perfect husband. Devoted, wealthy and caring. However to those few who knew better, he was nothing of the sort. A vulture, preying on whatever young, innocent thing that crossed his path. Anyone who was naïve enough to believe that this impressive, experienced specimen would have genuine feeling for them.

Ned Lishman knew exactly what he was doing. He cared not for the sorrow and heartbreak of the countless suitors he left in his destructive wake, only for the thrill and pleasure he would gain from the encounters, and he always remained in control. He picked them up and dropped them when he liked, for not one of his conquests had ever been the one to end the ‘relationship’.

So when one of his favourite past times Ian, texted him a simple ‘we need to talk’, Mr Lishman knew his control streak may be coming very close to being broken, and he couldn’t have that. As he sat in the back of his town car, speeding through the North Side of Chicago he knew that his charm on the redheaded boy must be wearing off.

For a second the older man was miffed. He’d taken the boy to the fucking Four Seasons for crying out loud, and he thinks it’s okay to end things? Well, he’d simply have to re-woo him. Recapture his affections at whatever cost.

Simple enough… but what grand gesture would be enough? And then he smirked to himself, an idea forming in his mind as he gazed out of the tinted window of the car across the Chicago river, which glittered with the reflections of what seemed to be every light in Chicago.

***

**[N – 22:09]  
Okay, meet me on Navy Pier tomorrow at 8.**

Ian frowned at his phone, why on earth would Ned want to meet on the pier? The only meeting places they’d ever decided on were dark, dingy clubs in Boystown or swanky, 4-5 star hotels on the North Side. However Ian shrugged it off, he would be ending things anyway so he wouldn’t be in Ned’s company for long.

Liam had been absolutely thrilled with his nosebleed, and had even asked V to leave the blood on his face, and idea which Fiona rejected immediately with wide eyes. Ian had only chuckled and persuaded the little boy to watch cartoons with him instead.

Liam had agreed enthusiastically, so Ian was to be found watching re-runs of the Simpsons with a soundly-asleep Liam’s head on his lap. Fiona had seen the two boys on the couch, but having seen Liam peacefully snoring on the redhead’s lap, she refrained from sending him to bed.

The next day, Ian shucked his coat on and set off on his merry way to the Navy Pier, having rehearsed exactly what he was going to say to the older man over and over again in his mind. He was so concentrated on it he hardly felt the cold air whipping at his face and bare hands on the handlebars of his old bicycle.

He arrived at the pier at exactly seven fifty nine, and clipped his bike to the nearest railing with the old lock which had been Lip’s before it had been his. After making sure it was definitely secure, he turned and walked along the pier lined with boats on either side. It wasn’t busy, but he wasn’t alone. As he walked he jealously eyed a seemingly enthralled couple who were gazing into each others eyes, leaning on the railing and paying no attention to anyone around them. Ian hoped to be that in love one day.

He tore his eyes away from the couple and instead searched for any sign of grey hair. He had no idea where Ned was on the pier, how far he should walk down it or if the older man was even there yet. He slowed to a stop and did a 360, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the man. After coming up empty he walked over to an empty bench and sat down, retrieving his carton of cigarettes out of the backpack he’d brought with him.

He looked around aimlessly, waiting for Ned to show up. He groped in his pocket for his phone to check the time, and found it was twelve minutes past eight. He clicked onto his and Ned’s message thread, ready to type out a message stating that he’d waited long enough and that he was leaving, when he felt someone take a seat next to him on the bench.

“Hello Ian.” Ned said, and the redhead tried his best to mask his surprise. The older man always knew how to make an entrance. “I wish you’d stop that,” he said, gesturing to the half-finished smoke between Ian’s fingers, “I hate the taste of cigarettes on my tongue.”  
Ian blushed, but decided not to beat around the bush.

“We need to talk.”

“Yes, you said.” Ned folded his hands together and fixed Ian with a confident look, as though nothing they would ‘talk about’ would change anything in the slightest. “But let me take you to dinner first.”

Ian had feared this, he knew he was no match for the splendour Ned could offer him. However… He could just go to dinner _then_ end things, at the end of the day he didn’t owe the older man anything, so why shouldn’t he get a decent meal before the glamorous lifestyle was taken away for good. So he gazed at his worn out sneakers, thinking it over before dropping the smoke and crushing it beneath one. He nodded.

“Great.” Ned said without hesitation. He knew what the boy was going to say anyway, offer a Southside kid a fancy meal and he was putty in your hands. He stood and gestured for Ian to do the same.

Ian got to his feet and swung his backpack back onto his shoulders, turning back towards the mouth of the pier assuming that he would collect his bike and then they’d be on their way to some hotel. However Ned placed his hand on Ian’s lower back (despite the fact it was through his thick winter coat, it had the desired effect) and steered him in the opposite direction.

Ian gave Ned a puzzled look, to which he pointed towards the edge of the pier. There, floating in all its glory was a yacht-like boat, strung with glowing bulbs of light and emanating the air of distinct wealth. The redhead stared in awe at the magnificent boat, eyes wide. Ned smirked at his expression, knowing he had abandoned any notion of having ‘the talk’ once he’d seen it. Mission accomplished.

“That’s for us?” Ian asked in disbelief, following Ned’s lead approaching the floating vessel, a bridge of metal connecting it to the pier..

“All for us.” Ned said, casting a furtive look around before sliding his hand into Ian’s. “For the whole night.” Ian bit his lip, not letting go of the older man’s hand as they mounted the bridge and boarded the boat.

  
***

The next morning, Ian climbed the steps to the back door of the Gallagher house, locked his bike to the fencing of the back porch and opened the door. After closing it he shut his eyes and leant against the wood, replaying the previous night of glamour, good food and sex in fast forward in his mind. Then he heard someone clear their throat.

His eyes snapped open to find his older sister, coffee mug in hand and a furious expression on her face.

“Where have you been?” Fiona asked, and though he was now nearing seventeen, the fear Fiona imposed on him when she was angry had not dimmed since he was a child. He felt his heart speed up and his mind go blank.

“I was at Mickey’s.” Ian lied. He knew that even that answer was risky, given the fact that Fiona had outwardly stated her disapproval of the boy only two days previously.

“Really?” Fiona said, not tearing her eyes away from Ian, and he felt himself wither slightly.

“Yep.” Ian said, also unable to look away. However Fiona stood up from her chair at the dining table and turned, rounding the counter to pour herself more coffee.

“Now that’s interesting,” she said, and Ian felt his heart drop. “Because Mickey came around here last night looking for you.”

At this, Ian knew there was no point lying anymore. He’d just have to take her wrath. However she seemed too tired to deal with his shit. She just heaved a great sigh, and the air of disappointment that radiated off her made Ian feel like utter shit.

“He left that.” She said, pointing to a carton of milk on the counter that Ian had not yet noticed. With that, she turned on her heel and walked through the living room, climbing the stairs and leaving Ian alone.

He cautiously approached the counter and saw that along with the milk, a simple note had been left in Mickey’s scrawly handwriting.

‘ _Sorry for yesterday, here’s replacement the milk I technically owe you._ ’

Ian read the note four times, each read of it feeling like a knife to the gut (each time surprised by Mickey’s correct spelling of technically). And suddenly, Ian was overcome with the awful feeling of pure, unadulterated guilt.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are always welcome. Also, those who've been wanting more of Mickey's background will only have to wait till next Tuesday! Things get more interesting then, believe me. :)  
> чорт візьми - Fucking Hell  
> Also wanted to that Ned is a dickhead in this chapter - clearly only using Ian for his own gain.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having a great day and it's a leap year so I decided to give you guys this one early! This was my favourite chapter to write so far, so emotional... All the support has been lovely, you guys are the best. x   
> P.S. towards the end of this chapter (I'm sure you'll guess when) I listened to Colourblind by Counting Crows. I would recommend listening to it while you read the end, it majorly adds to the feels.

Surprisingly, Mickey didn’t regret buying the milk. Even if Gallagher wasn’t there, he’d actually wanted to prove to Fiona that he wasn’t all bad. He saw the way she looked down on him whenever she arrived at the house when he was present, and he’d given up telling himself that he didn’t care. So he was glad she’d opened the door, and that she’d smiled at him when he left.

He hadn’t given much thought as to where the redhead might have been, but he was sure he’d just been at that small girl with the short hair’s house or one of his other school friends’. He’d texted him thanking him for the milk, and asking to schedule a session at the Milkovich house for the following night.

They day of, Mickey was excited. He didn’t know why, he just felt that change was in the air, that maybe even the simple notion of buying a bottle of milk had altered things between them. Plus, sessions at Mickey’s house always lead to loud, rough, shameless sex which he was also looking forward to.

Around one, Mickey was standing at the fridge deliberating whether to have toast and baked beans or scrambled eggs for lunch when he heard the door open. For a split second he felt the familiar surge of panic one living alone always feels when they’re door is opened by someone who isn’t them, but then he heard Colin call.

“Mick? You in?”

“Well the door was open, wasn’t it?” Mickey called back as he shut the fridge and walked to the living room.

“No one would have the balls to try and rob this place, even if the old man’s in the clink.” Joey replied, and Mickey pushed away the anxiety he couldn’t help but feel at the mention of his father.

“I suppose.” The younger boy replied, watching as his older brothers sat on the old couch in their usual business get-up, Joey with a paper bag that was emanating an obscenely good smell.

“We got you tacos.” Joe supplied, placing the bag none too gently on the low table in front of the sofa.

“Watch it!” Mickey said, imagining the food within it to now definitely be squashed having hit the table.

“Whatever,” Colin said, reaching into his pocket and extracting an envelope. “Here’s your money for the month.”

“Thanks man,” Mickey said, taking the envelope and sitting in one of the two arm chairs in the room, placing it on the table and dragging the bag of food towards him.

“No worries.” Colin said, “So, how goes it?”

Mickey chatted aimlessly but happily with his brothers, who turned out to be in the South Side anyway for business and thought they’d check in. They played video games, one of them having to sit out each time due to there only being two controllers, but had enough fun belittling the others about their gaming techniques.

After a while the older brothers had discarded their fancy blazers and taken off their ties, leaving them each in clean shirts and slacks. Mickey had gotten used to their new style but couldn’t help but think of the teasing they would have to have endured if Iggy was still around.

Before the little family had realised, it was twenty past seven, and Ian was due to arrive at seven thirty, meaning his brothers needed to clear the fuck out. However much time he and Gallagher had spent together, he wasn’t sure he was ready to introduce his brothers yet. So he stopped the game the other two were in the midst of playing to outrageous cried from both.

“Tutor’s gonna be here in ten, so fuck off.”

“Why?!” Joey said, still looking at the TV mournfully even though Mickey had switched it off.

“Yeah,” Colin said, now eyeing Mickey with interest. “Why can’t we meet the nerd?”

Mickey blushed but played it cool, collecting the rubbish from his tacos that still lay on the table. “Because.” He said simply.

“Oh my god.” Joey said, throwing his controller onto the sofa next to him and watching Mickey blush. “You’re hot for teacher.”

“Shut up!” Mickey said as the other two descended into a fit of laughter. “And never say that again.” He said, trying and failing not to chuckle with his brothers.

“What, that you’re hot for teacher?” Mickey groaned and rolled his eyes, walking to the kitchen while they chanted: “Mickey’s hot for teacher, Mickey’s hot for teacher.”

“Where did that phrase even come from?” Mickey called from the kitchen. At this, Joey and Colin looked despairingly at their brother. They got to their feet and collected their blazers and ties from the floor as Mickey made his way back to them.

“Sometimes I forget how young you are, oh brother mine.” Colin said, to which Mickey pushed him towards the front door.

“Shut up.” Mickey said, ushering both his brothers out onto the front porch and looking up and down the street for any sign of the redhead.

“Well, we’ve been chucked out of our own humble abode Joe,” Colin said, ignoring Mickey’s eye roll. “What ever are we to do?”

“I guess we’ll just have to fend for ourselves… out on the streets.” Joey replied, with a mock concerned expression on his face.

“Yeah, ha ha laugh it up then fuck off back to your North Side apartment.” Mickey said jokingly, before shutting the door on his brothers. He went to the window and watched them get into their fancy saloon car, driving off down the street back towards the North Side. He watched them go with a heavy heart.

He rounded the coffee table and sat on the couch, only to hear a knock at the door. He contemplated being a gentleman and getting up but fuck that.

“It’s open!” he called, and the door opened to reveal Ian, Mickey couldn’t help but feel butterflies at the sight of him. He smiled at Mickey and took off his trainers and dumped him coat on top of them, walking to Mickey and carrying over the backpack he’d brought with him.

“Hey.” He said, before promptly upending the bag so its contents were dumped unceremoniously onto the coffee table. “I thought we’d start with ‘The Fisherman’.” Ian said, extracting a single, crumpled sheet from the pile. Mickey blushed upon looking at the scrunched up sheet, remembering that it was he who had caused it to be so rumpled.

“Actually, I’ve done an essay on the one about the pilot.” Mickey said, and Ian smiled encouragingly. For once, Mickey didn’t find the expression patronising.

“And you want me to mark it?” Ian asked, and Mickey nodded.

“It’s in my room, I’ll be right back.” He stood up and retrieved his essay from his bedside table. When he returned, Ian was ready and waiting, red pen in hand. He gave it over and sat next to him. He pretended to text as Ian worked through his essay, when really he was just distracting himself, trying his utmost not to look at any of Ian’s comments until he’d seen the overall mark.

He was hit with sudden déjà vu. Although the first time Ian had marked one of his essays they’d been at the Gallagher house, Mickey still couldn’t help but be reminded of it. Then, he had got fifteen out of fifty, ten marks away from a C-, and as the redhead scribbled on his paper he couldn’t help but feel that today would reward a similar grade.

After about ten minutes, Ian straightened up and deposited his paper and the red pen on the coffee table, and unreadable expression on his face.

“Mickey…” Ian said not looking at him, and the brunet feared the worst. “You got 27.”

Mickey’s whole body flooded with relief, happiness and pride. “That’s a C- right?” He said quickly, and Ian turned to him, nodding with a huge grin on his face.  
“Yep!” He said, and the two boys paused in shock before they burst out laughing. Ian held up his hand and Mickey high fived it without hesitation, before grasping the redhead’s hand and bringing him in for a man hug.

“Oh man,” Mickey said after they had parted. He slumped back on the sofa and grinned to himself. Next to him, Ian was just as elated. The redhead pulled two cigarettes seemingly out of nowhere and handed one to Mickey, who reached for his lighter underneath all the sheets on the coffee table and lit up. As he did so, he noticed that the room itself was rather dark. He and his brothers hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on, and the flame from his clipper illuminated the quickly darkening room more than he had expected it to.

They sat in silence for a minute, letting the reality of Mickey’s grade wash over them, and before long Ian’s happiness had somewhat dissipated.

“So… I guess this means you don’t need a tutor anymore.” He said, avoiding Mickey’s eye and hastily taking a drag on his cigarette.

“Gallagher-“ Mickey started, but was cut off by the ringing of his phone which was hidden underneath the scattered papers, as his lighter had been.

Mickey leant forward to retrieve it, but couldn’t for the life of him find it. The phone had been ringing for quite some time now, and it was only a matter of time before it stopped. There weren’t many people who rang him, two of which he’d already seen today, one of which he was with right that second and the other people he would rather not miss a call from.

Ian finally leant forward and uncovered the phone in a matter of seconds and Mickey rushed to answer it, not having time to look at the caller ID, and when a mechanical voice automatically answered Mickey knew he had to take the call.

“It’s my sister,” Mickey turned to whisper to Ian, not listening to the automated voice coming from the earpiece. Ian nodded and Mickey smiled before walking to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. He’d just have to tell Mandy that he wasn’t available right now.

“Do you accept the call?” The voice said, and Mickey didn’t hesitate before saying yes. In the moment it took for the call to connect Mickey made eye contact with the redhead and smiled, to which Ian reciprocated. However the smile vanished from Mickey’s face when the call was eventually put through.

“Mickey?” Mickey felt his insides turn to ice at the sound of the voice, his throat seemed to close up, his heart rate accelerating to a speed it hadn’t reached for two years. “Son?”

Ian looked at the boy standing in the doorway and knew in an instant that something was terribly wrong. Mickey had started to breathe heavily, but the phone remained to his ear as if he was paralysed.

“Thank God, I didn’t think you’d answer. You never have-“ Mickey all but ripped the phone away from his ear. His hands shook as he took several attempts to hang up the call before finally succeeding. He hadn’t seen or noticed Ian move from his spot on the couch, but suddenly he was by his side. The redhead touched Mickey’s arm and the shorted boy physically flinched, but this didn’t dissuade Ian from trying again. He gently touched Mickey’s arm before holding it and leading him over to the couch.

Mickey willingly sat down, but his brain felt fuzzy, he was staring into nothing. He couldn’t help but replay the events of that night, all those years ago at the sound of his father’s voice. Ian was talking, whispering gently but Mickey had no idea what he was saying. Soothing stuff he guessed.

He could feel himself shaking and he was still having trouble breathing. His eyes burned and he clenched his fists into balls, willing himself not to cry in front of Gallagher but it only made things worse. He could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands, and was sure they were about to break the skin there, but he welcomed it. Welcomed the pain that would bring him back down the earth.

But just before they did, he felt large, warm hands encase his, gently prising his fingers open as to prevent any damage, and inexplicably he felt his breathing even out. As the warm hands ran over his own, his heart rate slowed and his mind started to clear. Coming back to himself, he blinked a few times before looking at Ian who was staring at him, the concern evident in his face.

“Mickey,” Ian said, and the shorted boy couldn’t help but calm just from the sound of his name on the redheads tongue. “What happened?”

Mickey reached for his phone which was once again lying on the coffee table, although he didn’t remember putting it there. Gallagher must have. He quickly unlocked it and searched for the call log, and there it was. A call lasting a minute and twenty four seconds from Danville Correctional Facility – Illinois.

“That was my dad.” Ian nodded but still seemed confused, and Mickey remembered that Ian had no idea why Mickey would react this way to a call from Terry.

“I thought you said it was your sister?” Ian said, still gripping one of Mickey’s hands between his own.

“I didn’t listen… I thought it was her. Mandy’s in juvie… the call operator system for her facility sounds the same as my dad’s one.” He knew he wasn’t explaining it very well, and Mickey wondered if Ian had ever even had a call from anyone in prison, or if he had the slightest idea what he was talking about.

“He hasn’t tried to contact me for over a year… When I heard the automated voice I just- I thought it was Mandy.” Mickey felt his eyes burn again and he looked towards the floor. What he wouldn’t give for the person on the other end to have been Mandy. They would have joked around, Mandy probably would have been aghast at Mickey blowing her off but she wouldn’t have really been angry. Instead, this.

“What did he say to make you so upset?” Ian said, and Mickey suddenly felt stupid. All Terry had said was his name and some other harmless things he couldn’t really remember. He tried to withdraw his hand from Ian’s but the redhead wouldn’t let go, Mickey looked at him, seeing his encouraging expression, completely free of judgement and decided he didn’t want to let go, that he wanted to tell him.

“Do you know why my dad’s in prison?” He asked, and Ian shook his head. Mickey took a deep breath, physically and mentally preparing himself to tell a story he hadn’t told in two years.

“When my dad was here, he was always in some dodgy shit with some dodgy people. There was never a time when he wasn’t involved in some illegal scheme or deal, and he was notorious in the whole of the South Side. Only the worst of the worst got into it with Terry Milkovich.” Mickey wasn’t looking at Ian, but the redhead kept a hold of his hand and nodded along all the same, encouraging Mickey to go on.

“He used to take us on runs. Everyone knew that where Terry went, at least one of his sons went as well. He used to joke about calling us all the same name, people we met couldn’t tell us apart. Iggy was his favourite though, he went on the most.” He remembered how similar they all used to look. They were all around that age where they could have been fourteen or twenty. Joey and Colin looked younger whereas Iggy and Mickey looked a lot older than they were. “I used to be mistaken for my brothers all the time, on the street, on runs, anywhere, especially me and Iggy. At the mention of Iggy he took a deep breath again, he’d need as many as he could get.

“Once, some pig who thought he was the new up and comer gangster of the neighbourhood decided to try and fuck my dad over. Thought it would get him street cred or some shit. So he double-crossed him in a deal for $20,000 of coke.” He heard Ian’s sharp intake of breath but soldiered on. “My dad supplied it to him, then he sold it on without giving Terry his share of the profits. Well, my dad didn’t like that.” Mickey couldn’t help but grimace at the memory of his dad discovering he’d been crossed out of $20,000. He’d stormed into the house and fucked the place up. Mickey’s eyes searched the dark wall behind the television until he found the deep indent the very same coffee table Ian had dumped his notes on had made when Terry had thrown it across the room.

“He… He went searching for this guy, Big Mike, he was called. Said he was going to kill him if he didn’t get him the money by the following Friday. By this time, Mike knew he was in some deep shit. Terry had a rep for not showing any mercy, he would kill you in a heartbeat. So this joker went and tried to scam money off anyone he could, and he got desperate. So desperate that he went to Boystown to threaten all the old business men in there that if they didn’t pay him he’d tell their wives they were fags or some shit. But when him and his boys got there they saw someone.”

Ian knew where this was going, he could feel his pulse start to race as Mickey recounted his story, still not looking at him but keeping his tattooed hand between Ian’s own freckled ones. “They saw me. I was fifteen at the time, didn’t really know I was… that I was gay but had an inkling so went to get fucked… See what it felt like and all that shit.” Mickey’s breath became short again, “I never thought I’d see anyone there, no one from the South Side would be seen dead in that part of town, it was a risky move but it was Mike’s lucky day, and he went straight to Terry.” Ian’s eyes widened, but he knew the story wasn’t over. He could feel Mickey’s hands becoming clammy and saw his eyes glisten with unshed tears by the light streaming into the now dark room from the lamp posts outside.

“Big Mike didn’t know which of us was which, but he found my dad in the Alibi. He dragged him outside and told him that... told him that one of his boys was a fag, and that if he didn’t let the $20,000 go he would tell everyone, it would have ruined his rep and Big Mike knew that. My dad… he went back inside and got piss-drunk. I guess he didn’t want to hint to anyone that anything was wrong… None of us knew where he was but we assumed he was at a bar. We were all just here, where we are now, hanging out waiting for him to get back.” Mickey gestured around the living room. “Me, Iggy, Joey and Colin. Mandy was at a friend’s.” Mickey looked around the room and could almost see them, as if phantoms, sitting around the room, laughing, joking and smoking as they awaited their master’s return.

“He kicked down the door.” Mickey looked to the door and saw it like it was yesterday. “And came in shouting about us being fags. The room was still pretty messed up from when he’d gone on a rampage about the money, so he went for us instead.” This time, Mickey didn’t stop the tears from forming in his eyes. “He hit Colin and Joey and broke my wrist. He didn’t touch Iggy… Iggy was his favourite. But Iggy knew. He knew it was me that Big Mike had seen. So-“ Mickey took a deep, shuddering breath, and tears now clouded his vision completely, but he had to finish. He had to.

“So Iggy took it. Iggy lied, he said- he said it was him.” Mickey remembered the shock he’d felt as Iggy had confessed, and he felt the tears spill and roll down his face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was going to, I swear I was going to say it was me!” Mickey seemed to be appealing to Ian, begging him not to shame him for being spineless or worse, a murderer. “But he just looked at me, and I knew that he- he would kill both of us if I’d said anything.”

Ian felt his own eyes burning at the thought of Mickey, confused and in pain and having to watch his brother sacrifice himself for him. “Terry he… He grabbed the baseball bat and-“ Mickey seemed as though he was having trouble continuing, and Ian couldn’t blame him. “He grabbed it and- right in front of us, just…” But Ian squeezed his hand, silently telling him it was okay, he didn’t have to say. He could guess what had happened, and had no desire to hear it or put Mickey through recounting it.

“I just- I feel so alone. Joey and Colin come and go, but I know it’s hard for them to be here. Mandy’s fucked off to juvie for something some asshole made her do and Iggy’s gone. He’s just... fucking gone and it’s my fault. Terry still doesn’t fucking know it was me, I’ve never had the balls to talk to him let alone tell him and I know it’s fucking-“ But at this, he just couldn’t go on. He finally withdrew his hand from Ian’s and covered his face with it. He couldn’t help but let the sobs rack his body.

Ian was in shock. He’d never known, and would never suspect Mickey to have such a dark past. Instead of feeling ashamed or afraid of Mickey after hearing the account, he was overcome with the distinct feeling of admiration. Mickey had had to deal with so fucking much, and you’d never know. Yeah, he could be a dick but Ian supposed he would be an absolute wreck if he’d gone through the same thing.

He’d had to stay in the house, sit in the room where his own brother had been murdered in front off his own eyes by a man who was meant to be his idol, who had been his idol up until that point. He was so fucking proud of Mickey for even getting up in the morning.

He watched the boy in front of him, who he was now sure was one of the strongest people he’d ever known and felt his heart ache at the sight of him in so much pain. The boy’s hands were still over his face, but Ian could see the tears falling from behind them. He felt his own eyes brim until tears finally fell. He felt weak, crying when really he had nothing to cry about, but he didn’t stop them.

He slowly reached up to gently close his hand around Mickey’s wrist, the other boy didn’t object but kept his eyes firmly closed. Ian pulled his arm slightly, so he would turn to face him. He slowly leant forward and let his forehead rest against Mickey’s. Mickey’s sobs had diminished, but he still stayed sniffing as Ian let his own eyes close, just feeling Mickey’s breath on his face and his arm underneath his hand.

The room was silent except for Mickey’s sniffing but Ian didn’t mind. All he wanted to do was show Mickey how proud of him he was, how he in no way judged him for his past, how he just wanted to be there for him. His eyes opened as he felt a hand on his cheek. He saw that Mickey had reached his hand up to wipe away Ian’s tears with his thumb, the movement was so simple but Ian felt his heart clench. Slowly, he leant forward. Mickey didn’t remove his hand as Ian’s face moved closer to his own, and then slowly but at the same time suddenly, their lips met.

At first, it was chaste. Ian wanted to be gentle, for Mickey to know it was okay to stop, but he didn’t. Ian thought he could taste tears on his lips, whether they were his or Mickey’s he didn’t know and didn’t care. All he cared about was letting Mickey know how much he cared about him… how proud he was of him.

Mickey’s hand remained placed on Ian’s cheek, gently applying pressure here and there and Mickey suddenly struck with the emotion and intimacy of the moment, he’d never kissed anyone in his life, but it didn’t scare him. On the contrary, he wanted to carry on going, he wanted Ian to feel him. All of him. With that, he slipped his tongue into Ian’s mouth, which he willingly accepted and returned, their tongues gently caressing each other.

Mickey gently broke the kiss and stood up, only to place one leg either side of Ian’s so he was straddling the redhead, keeping his eyes on Ian all the while. His hand found Ian’s hair and then they kissed again, Ian’s hands gently touching Mickey’s back. This time Ian broke the kiss to remove the other boy’s shirt. After which Mickey returned the favour, but their mouths were connected again before long.

Mickey began lightly grinding into Ian’s lap, but their kiss remained sweet and soft. Something was different this time, not only the kiss but everything seemed so gentle, so caring. Without warning he stood, not breaking the kiss as Mickey latched his legs around Ian’s middle. The redhead walked slowly to what he knew was Mickey’s room. He gently placed him on the bed and stood straight, he looked at Mickey as he undid his flies, and couldn’t help but feel his heart clench yet again. Mickey looked so undone. Tear tracks on his face, lips swollen and a small smile on his face. When Ian approached, Mickey moved himself up the bed and turned onto his stomach. Ian was about to gently roll him over to face him again when he saw Mickey’s back.

The whole of Mickey’s back was littered with scars, varying in length and severity, but there wasn’t a single area not containing at least one. Ian felt the tears resurface at the sight. He knelt on the bed and leant so each of his hands were on either side of the shorter boy’s shoulders.

He leant down and placed a kiss to the largest scar he could see, one that stretched the length of his back, he guessed this was what he’d seen the other day at the Gallagher house. He kissed along the length of it, willing Mickey to understand. To understand that he’d never do anything to hurt him. He’d never cause him this pain.

He gently kissed every scar he saw, before gently turning Mickey onto his back. He could see that the older boy had been crying again, and Ian mirrored his earlier actions, wiping away the tears on Mickey’s face. He knelt one knee in between Mickey’s own and kissed him again. Mickey’s hands found his hair again while Ian caressed his face. Before long Mickey reached down to push Ian’s jeans off, breaking the kiss so Ian could get the job done, before doing the same for Mickey.

They got under the sheets, Ian still hovering over Mickey and discarded their boxers. Mickey kissed Ian again, while reaching into his bedside table for lube. He put it into Ian’s hand, but he wanted to make sure Mickey was fine with this. Breaking the kiss he whispered:

“Are you okay?” Mickey opened his eyes and looked into Ian’s. He reached a hand up to cup Ian’s face and nodded. Ian leant back down and kissed him, while reaching a hand in between Mickey’s legs to insert his lubed fingers into his hole.

Mickey let out a little gasp, and Ian smiled to himself. They’d never done this face to face, and Ian couldn’t shut his eyes, he couldn’t stop staring at Mickey’s face. It was beautiful. Mickey surged up and drew Ian back in for a kiss, while Ian continued to prepare him. Soon thereafter, Mickey extended his hand to cup Ian’s ass, silently communicating that he was ready.

Ian obliged, withdrawing his fingers and quickly wiping them on the sheets before resting his weight on his forearms either side of Mickey’s head. He paused to stroke the hair of the boy beneath him away from his face. They looked at each other for a moment before the redhead lined himself up and pushed into Mickey. Both boys gasped as he bottomed out, and Mickey bit his lip, still looking into the taller boy’s eyes as he started to move.

Once again, Mickey was overcome by the emotion of the moment the two boys were having, and he couldn’t help but let the tears slowly fall. He didn’t even care if the other boy saw, he just reached up to connect their lips, his hand on the taller boy’s shoulder, the other on his hip as they moved together, showing him it was okay. He was okay.

They moved together, in perfect sync their bodies fitting together like a puzzle. Finally solved. The boy above him moved his arm to bend Mickey’s leg, changing the angle causing him to hit Mickey’s prostate. Mickey gasped, then he said it. “Ian.”

The first time Mickey had ever said his name had such an effect on Ian he never could have seen coming. He gasped, his chest tightening. “Say my name again.” He whispered, and Mickey obliged. Neither boy had ever felt so connected to the other. Mickey’s heart ached in his chest as Ian’s movements sped up, though still so gentle. Mickey didn’t know how he did it. He’d never felt so cared for, so accepted and so loved.

By this time, both boys’ breaths had become short and they moved together more urgently, Mickey’s hand squeezing the muscles in Ian’s arm. The taller boy let his head rest of Mickey’s shoulder, his hand still on the shorter boy’s leg as they both neared their climax.

He kissed Mickey’s shoulder and moved the hand on his leg in between their bodies to slowly caress his dick. Mickey gasped and shuddered, kissing the place where Ian’s neck met his shoulders. Ian moved his head to kiss Mickey as he pushed him over the edge. Mickey clenched his hand over Ian’s bicep as he came, gently massaging the other boy’s tongue with his own. Ian didn’t stop moving, so close to his own climax.

“Fuck Ian,” Mickey said again, and Ian gasped, chest tightening as he came inside Mickey. He let his weight slowly land on Mickey until their bodies were pressed together, head to toe, Ian’s legs still in between Mickey’s, his head on Mickey’s shoulder. The older boy soothingly stroked Ian’s hair, the other resting lightly on his back. Ian was overwhelmed by the whole experience. He’d never felt anything of the sort, nothing compared to what had just happened, and he couldn’t help but admit that he’d never felt so complete, it threw him for a loop and felt his eyes burn.

Each boy knew that none of the tears shed between them that night were out of sadness, they just came with the pure emotion they’d felt. It was hard to explain, but neither were weirded out by the other’s sniffles. That just proved they were on the same wavelength, that they felt the same way. Mickey had never felt so at peace.

He was surprised at himself, he’d never felt like this before. Never in a million years would he expect himself to open up to Ian the way he had tonight. So many barriers had been knocked over by the boy lying next to him, but he wasn’t scared. He didn’t want to run away or hide, he just wanted to stay in this moment. He’d never have known that Ian would be the one to discover the layers that made him up, to peel each one back so effortlessly.

Mickey was sure that the other boy had no idea of the feelings he made Mickey experience. The feeling of weightlessness somehow paired with the feeling of being anchored. Anchored to something strong and secure that would prevent him from drifting, from being pulled out to sea and complete isolation. As long as he was with Ian, Mickey didn’t think he’d ever feel alone again.

They stayed like that for a while, just basking in the afterglow. Ian had never felt anything like it, he’d never really understood the cringeworthy phrase to ‘make love’ until now. But he knew that Mickey would be very physically sensitive right about now so he gently pulled out, earning only a quick grimace from the other boy.

He proceeded to roll off Mickey, so they were facing each other in Mickey’s bed. They just looked at each other for a while, Ian reaching out to trail his hand along Mickey’s arm. Just as he felt sleep begin to wash over him, Mickey placed a hand gently on his face and moved closer to place a chaste kiss to his lips. Ian smiled into it, and Mickey withdrew while keeping as close to Ian as physically possible. He linked one of his legs with Ian’s and closed his eyes.

Ian watched Mickey breathing slowly and deeply for a while, before closing his own eyes and drifting off into a peaceful sleep, an arm lightly placed over Mickey’s stomach, Mickey’s own hand resting gently on Ian’s chest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Next week we will be back to Tuesdays x  
> P.S. I love Joey and Colin.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really happy with this chapter... Having a tiny bit of writer's block but wanted to get a chapter to you guys for today so sorry if it's shoddy! I'll try my hardest to post chapter 11 next Tuesday. Thank you for all the support this fic is getting - still a lot more drama to come!

Ian woke up with his arm draped around something solid. He slowly opened his eyes to be faced with the back of a brunet head, and it took him a second to convince himself that what had happened the previous night wasn’t a dream. But he wasn’t sure where they went from here.

Mickey was still soundly asleep, and Ian just watched him breathe while he thought things over, wishing that he’d fallen asleep facing him. The most likely outcome of Mickey’s waking up would be him swiftly kicking Ian to the curb and acting as if nothing had ever happened. It made Ian’s heart sink to admit this fact, but that’s what it was. Statistically, the most likely outcome. _God, I sound like Jade_. Ian thought, nearly groaning aloud at the admission.

That reminded him, he needed to text her at some point. He’d beed rather distant from all his friends since his fall out with Melissa, and hadn’t seen Jade for over a week. He slowly removed his arm from around Mickey’s waist and propped himself on one elbow in an attempt to see any items of clothing that belonged to him.

The movement seemed to rouse Mickey, and Ian felt his pulse speed up somewhat in anticipation of the other boy’s reaction to him being there. The brunet stretched his arms above his head letting out a groan before opening his eyes, which landed immediately on Ian. He smiled, and Ian literally thought he felt his heart melt into a pile of goo within him.

“Hey.” He said, and Ian let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Hey.” Ian replied, and Mickey turned on his side to face Ian, his hair tousled and a still-sleepy expression on his face.

“What time is it?” Mickey asked.

“I don’t know, not sure where my jeans are at the moment and my phone’s in them.” Ian half whispered. Mickey just hummed in ascent and closed his eyes again.

“You want breakfast?” He asked, and Ian was sure he’d never seen anyone who looked less prepared to make someone breakfast in his life. He should be getting home anyway, he hadn’t planned on spending the night and Fiona was probably wondering where he was.

“Nah, gotta get home anyway.” He said, sitting straight before getting to his feet and searching for his clothes. Mickey opened his eyes and turned on his back to appreciate the view. He smirked as he watched Ian get dressed.

“So I’ll do another essay and text you when I’m done, yeah?” Mickey said sleepily, barely stifling a yawn.

“Really? I mean, you’ve already got a C-… Technically you don’t need a tutor anymore.” Ian knew he’d approached the same subject last night before all the shit went down, but he wanted to know what Mickey thought. Looking towards Mickey to find him fixing the redhead with a fond, almost exasperated look, as if to ask if he was seriously going to make him spell it out.

“Can’t help to get better, right? I don’t only want to pass anymore, I want to do well.” And for the second time that morning, Mickey surprised Ian. The taller boy smiled at him before retreating to the living room to collect his shirt.

“So you’ll text me, yeah?” Ian called back through to the bedroom, while he put on his shirt and coat, ready to leave. There was no answer, but just as Ian was putting on his sneakers he heard bare feet padding their way towards him.

Mickey had thrown on some sweats and actually come to the door to see him out. The butterflies in Ian’s stomach were going crazy.

“Yep.” Mickey said quietly, gently touching Ian’s forearm as the other boy straightened up, backpack in hand.

“Okay,” Ian replied. He didn’t know what to do, were they gonna like… man hug? Or high five or what? But Mickey answered that question for him, quickly leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. It was fleeting, but Ian smiled into it.

A minute later, Mickey was shutting the door behind Ian and the redhead bounded down the steps with a definite spring in his step. The cold air didn’t bother him as he walked merrily down the street, he didn’t want to imagine what he looked like to passers by but he didn’t really care.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled Jade’s number, praying that she’d understand his recent absence once he dished the goss. She picked up on the fourth ring.

“ _Ian!_ ” she said, and the redhead couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“Hey! What’re you doing today?” He asked, hoping that the two of them could just hang out, eating chocolate and chatting. Wow, I sound gay. Ian thought, but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He felt like nothing the world threw at him today could bring him down.

“ _Well…_ ” Jade said, and Ian waited patiently for her to elaborate. “ _Me, Melissa and Craig are baking cakes for the cake sale at school._ ”

Ian paused, seeing Melissa may very well bring him off his high, but he also felt it was time to bury the hatchet between them. Yes, his plan of fucking Mickey without feelings was failing miserably, but the previous night and this morning proved that Mickey wouldn’t necessarily break his heart…

“Mind if I join?” He asked with a false air of confidence.

“ _Are you sure? I’ll ask the others, hang on._ ” There was a scuffle no doubt as Jade covered the phone’s microphone with her finger. “ _They say that’s fine! We’re at Craig’s._ ”

“Great!” Ian said, “I’ll be there in fifteen.” He hung up and stopped walking for a second. He quickly shot off a text to Fiona, apologising for the previous night and informing her of his plans for the day. He then turned on his heel and redirected himself to the direction of Craig’s house.

***

When he arrived at the large, white house Jade welcomed him at the door with open arms in all her tiny glory. She hounded him with questions about where the hell he’d been and demanded that he tell her everything later that night. He just laughed and nodded, happy to see his best friend again.

Before long they walked through the large foyer-like room to the kitchen, with it’s fancy marble island come breakfast bar. Craig and Melissa were carefully measuring out ingredients for the cakes, some pop station blasting music out of the radio next to them.

“Hey,” Ian said nervously. He hadn’t been worried about seeing Melissa until right then, when he was suddenly overcome with awkwardness, not knowing where to look or what to do with his hands. He settled on shoving them in his pockets, waiting for her reply.

“Hiya.” She said, giving him a warm smile and for the second time that morning Ian felt relief flood through him. He chuckled nervously and she just snorted and rounded the island to hug him. They both held on for longer than usual – Ian found that make up hugs were usually longer than average. Craig called some form of greeting over to the pair and Ian waved in response.

With that, Melissa retreated back to Craig’s side to continue with her measurements while Jade and Ian took seats at the stools that lined one side of the island. The foursome chatted about everything and nothing for a while, Craig talking at length about his recent problems with his girlfriend – Polly. A conversation in which Melissa stayed abnormally silent, Ian made a mental note to ask her about that later.

Then, as Ian knew it would, the conversation circled to him.

“So, Ian.” Craig said, and Ian should have known that only he would have the balls to address the elephant in the room. “How’s your student?”

Ian felt himself blush, but was determined not to remain coy on the subject. They were his closest friends after all.

“Good, he actually got his first C- yesterday so it looks like I’ll get those credits after all.” The other three remained in a silent shock for a second before Melissa spoke. It seemed that though she’d forgiven Ian for keeping mum about Mickey, she still wasn’t happy about the arrangement between the two boys.

“So, he doesn’t need a tutor anymore?” She asked in a casual tone that was fooling no one.

“Craig!” Jade said suddenly, sensing the impending conversation and deciding she’d rather not be a part of it. “Let’s go see Pat.”

“Why?” Craig said, clearly uninterested in his age-old tortoise at present – wanting to see what drama would unfold between the other two friends.

“Now!” Jade said through gritted teeth, and Craig heaved a great sigh before rolling his eyes and walking across the room to follow Jade out of the door.

“That was subtle…” Ian said, chucking nervously and avoiding Melissa’s eye. However she didn’t beat around the bush.

“So will you stop seeing him? Now that he’s got a C-?”

“No.” Ian said flatly. “Things have changed between us. He says he wants to do well, he still wants me as a tutor.”

“A tutor or someone he can just fuck around with?” Melissa asked casually, pretending to busy herself with the cooking.

“Things are different now… He’s- he’s had a rough past. Everyone needs to cut him some slack.”

“So when did this ‘change between you’ occur?” She said, conveniently glazing over Ian’s comment on Mickey’s past.

“Last night…” Ian mumbled.

“Oh, how convenient.” She deadpanned, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Just-“ Ian started, trying to get Melissa on his side for once. “Just trust me, okay?” He said, and her expression softened somewhat, and she sighed in defeat.

“I’m just worried. And even if he wants to better himself, I’m still pissed about him and Cole etcetera beating up Benny.” She said. Ian got off his stool and rounded the counter to stand next to her.

“I know, but I’m okay. I promise.” She let herself lean her weight against him – and Ian knew that for now, Melissa was on his side.

***

It was safe to say that Fiona was pissed at Ian. When he’d arrived back at the Gallagher house from Craig’s, he got a very long lecture about the appropriateness of certain methods of communication in during particular scenarios. For example a text message was definitely not sufficient in this case.

So he was grounded. He’d never been grounded in his whole fucking life but laughing in her face when she’d enforced the punishment definitely didn’t help. So Ian was found at 10PM on a Friday night at home reading comic books, as he’d done for the past six nights.

Straight home from school (apart from ROTC and work) in bed by eleven and no friends over. Not even Mickey, despite the fact that technically seeing Mickey was an academic extracurricular Fiona’s knowledge of the nature of their relationship prompted her to ban his visits as well.

So all in all, Ian hadn’t talked to Mickey face to face in six days. He’d seen him in school from time to time, but they couldn’t even risk subtle smiles right under Cole’s nose. They’d basically texted non-stop, but it wasn’t really enough. Jade joked that even though he’d been spending time with her, Melissa and Craig, it was like he wasn’t really there due to his constant pining for his… whatever Mickey was.

An up side was that Ian was starting to see that his punishment was having an effect on Mickey as well – the thug hadn’t gone as far as to say that he missed the redhead, but he had sent a simple text on Wednesday that made Ian blush:

**[Mickey – 21:02]  
This sucks. How long till you’re released from the prison?**

He’d only been grounded for a week, meaning that he could see Mickey on Saturday, so they organised a session for that night. Everyone was going to be out of the house until around eight thirty, when Fiona had planned a whole-family dinner. Lip was coming back from college and she’d persuaded Carl to abandon his plans with God knows who doing God knows what so that he could attend. Ian suggested the session for seven, so that Mickey had some time to scarper before his whole family bore down upon them.

Mickey agreed, and Ian played it cool, but really found himself counting down the hours until he would arrive. He was horny, bored of his imprisonment and simply missed the older boy. So when he waved Fiona off the next day he was almost humming with excitement at the prospect of seeing Mickey again.

In an attempt to calm himself down, he threw himself on the couch and lit up a cigarette, deciding on old Prison Break re-runs. However the sight of Wentworth Miller shirtless did nothing to cool him off.

He’d been allowed to go to work – something which he really hadn’t been happy about at the end of the day. Kash and his creepy come-ons paired with the even worse sex did nothing to excite (much less satisfy) Ian anymore, on the contrary, he found himself only coming half the time – each time to thoughts of Mickey. Ned had contacted him too, and he’d told the truth about his grounding in an attempt to remind the older man of his age and hopefully put him off all together. It hadn’t worked, and every time the older man’s name appeared on his phone he felt his stomach churn with guilt.

If he’d thought the time away from Mickey would make it easier to accept that he was sleeping with other people without feeling so much guilt, he was mistaken. He looked at his screen to check the time and found it to be seven fifty, forcing all thoughts of Ned and Kash out of his brain immediately.

Come seven fifty-five Ian began to feel nervous. He hadn’t felt nervous at the prospect of seeing Mickey for weeks but nerves paired with excitement was a feeling Ian wasn’t actually opposed to. So when he heard a knock at the back door his pulse raced, and he casually walked over to it still trying to keep some aspect of calm.

He took a deep breath with his hand on the door knob, before swinging it open. There stood Mickey, biting his lip and looking adorable as ever. A second passed where neither boy said a thing, just some pretty intense eye contact before Mickey grinned, stepping forward and bringing Ian’s lips to his in a searing kiss.

Ian pushed the door shut before gripping Mickey’s waist, reciprocating the kiss with the same amount of passion and heat. He quickly tugged the shorter boy’s coat off before lifting him off the floor so he could latch his legs around Ian’s waist. Mickey got the gist and did so, grunting as Ian slammed him against the back door.

Ian slowly ground against Mickey and before long both boys were panting into each others mouths. The redhead moved his mouth lower to such gently at Mickey’s neck.

“Bed. Now.” He said and Ian smiled against his neck, letting him down and dragging him by the hand up the stairs to his room. Once inside Ian turned to face Mickey only to have the other boy shove him forcefully so he landed, bouncing on the bed. Without letting a second pass Mickey was straddling him, lips on his once again.

He broke the kiss to remove his shirt, which Ian watched avidly before doing the same. They made out for a bit, just grinding like a couple of horny virgins, fighting for dominance now and again. Before long Mickey got impatient, reaching blindly for Ian’s zipper as they kissed. Mickey didn’t know how they’d only just started kissing, it was one of the best things ever. He supposed it was his fault and he definitely regretted not instigating it sooner.

Ian struggled to remove his pants while Mickey did the same, before long they were both naked, rolling around on Ian’s bed however when Ian reached for the lube and went to squirt some on his fingers Mickey stopped him.

“It’s been a long week, man.” He said, avoiding Ian’s gaze as he blushed. “Had to get through it somehow.” Indicating that he’d been flying solo in Ian’s absence. “I’ve been ready for the past like, four days.”

Ian’s mind was suddenly filled with images of Mickey fingering himself, hot, sweaty and writhing on his bed and while it made Ian’s already hard dick become almost painfully erect he couldn’t help but feel a flash of guilt at Mickey’s accidental admission of monogamy.

He knew he should say something, he should just tell Mickey everything. Things would be better in the long run if he was completely honest. Instead, Ian forcefully rolled the older boy onto his stomach, making Mickey laugh taking Ian’s sudden roughness as a sign of pure need rather than an excuse for the redhead not to have to look into the face of the person he was lying to.

Ian wasted no time in spreading Mickey’s cheeks and sliding into him. Both boys groaned as Ian bottomed out, and all thoughts of Ian’s infidelity were pushed out of his mind. He hadn’t truly known what he was missing until this moment, and Ian didn’t know how the fuck he’d even survived the past week without being inside of Mickey.

Ian was draped over Mickey’s back and mouthed at his neck as he started to move. Mickey had one hand wound into the sheets while the other reached back to cling at the short hairs at the back of Ian’s head. Before long the redhead became impatient with his own languid thrusts and sat up on his knees, pulling Mickey with him and in one, fluid movement pushed Mickey’s legs further apart before gripping his hips and unleashing hard, powerful thrusts which had Mickey moaning loudly underneath him.

“Fuck!” Mickey cried as Ian changed the angle sightly in search for his prostate, which he knew he’d found by Mickey’s curse. He made sure he pounded in the same place, loving the noises the boy under him was making, without hesitation he grasped Mickey’s hair and yanked his head back to which Mickey moaned his approval.

Ian didn’t think he’d ever been this rough with Mickey, his thrusts almost punishing as he jackhammered into him, trying to quench the craving he’d had for the boy underneath him for the past seven days.

“Say something.” Ian demanded, tightening the grip he had on the dark hair, he needed to hear his voice.

“Fuck, Ian. You’re so fucking good at this.” Mickey said, and as soon as he started talking Ian knew he wouldn’t last long.

“You feel so fucking good in me, a week without this was too long, too fucking long.” He trailed off as Ian redoubled his efforts, panting and groaning.

“Keep going.” Ian urged, so close to his own release, loosening his grip on the dark hair which let Mickey’s cheek fall onto the pillow below him.

“I- I don’t want you to stop. Ever. Need this… always.” Mickey’s sentences were becoming shorter, as though his mind couldn’t even form them properly. He was writhing below him, both hands wound into the sheets and searching for some kind of contact on his leaking cock. Ian felt like every nerve within him was on fire, he couldn’t close his eyes, too focussed on Mickey’s profile, contorted with pleasure as he bit his lip until it was swollen.

“Fuck, Ian fuck!” and Mickey came untouched apart from the friction the sheets below him were providing, letting off a rapid string of Ukrainian as he did.

That combined with the use of his first name pushed Ian over the edge and he shouted Mickey’s name as he came deep within him. He pulled out and rolled to the side, slumping against the sheets while Mickey stretched out his legs, still laying on his stomach completely sated. Ian truly hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the older boy until then.

“Fuck…” he repeated, opening one eye to peek at Ian before reaching out an hand and laying it on the redhead’s chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life. We should spend time apart more often.

“Don’t even say that.” Ian joked. It wasn’t even the lack of sex which had made him crave Mickey (although that was definitely a factor), it was his company. He stared fondly at Mickey for a second before rolling over and bringing Mickey with him so they were face to face with Ian on top of the shorter boy. He leant down and kissed him slowly, savouring the strange but addictive taste of orange juice and cigarettes on the older boy’s tongue. Mickey responded keenly, wrapping his legs around Ian’s torso and sliding his hands into his red hair.

Before long Ian was sliding into Mickey’s heat once again, but this time they took it slow. Gentle, measured thrusts and endless kissing. Mickey loved it when Ian tossed him around, playing and fucking rough, but he was learning to love this new, slow fucking. Though he’d probably never admit it to Ian.

Ian moved Mickey’s leg until it was on his shoulder, practically bending him in half and the new angle meant he hit Mickey’s prostate with every thrust. Ian didn’t think he would ever get tired of seeing Mickey’s face while they fucked. The way the older boy bit his lip and let out these tiny whines which went straight to Ian’s dick every time he heard them.

They came together, each other’s names on their lips. When Ian rolled off Mickey for the second time Mickey held him close, not letting Ian extract himself from his embrace and the redhead was ecstatic. They lay together for a while, Mickey absentmindedly tracing his fingers around Ian’s chest, over his pecks and along his collarbones. He’d never seen Mickey like this, so open and calm. However their little bubble of relaxation and afterglow was burst when the two boys heard the door opening downstairs and what sounded like fifty people entering the house.

It was like someone had flipped a switch. Mickey was up and off Ian in an instant, rushing around the room to collect his clothes that had fallen haphazardly around the place. Ian merely sighed, taking a much slower approach to the retrieval of his jeans and shirt. Once the two boys were dressed, with Mickey carefully avoiding Ian’s gaze, they headed downstairs.

***

The whole Gallagher clan were dotted around the kitchen, chatting, laughing and drinking while Fiona dodged around everyone attempting to cook dinner. No one seemed to notice the new arrivals until Lip saw his brother.

“Ian!” he shouted over the hubub, crossing the room to envelop his younger brother in a bone-crushing hug. Ian was greeted by all his siblings as well as Kev and V whilst Mickey looked on awkwardly, searching for an escape before anyone noticed he was there. However as he tried to sidle to the door, Lip noticed his presence and called over to him in surprise.

“Mickey? What are you doing here?” Everyone turned to look at him, most showing signs of confusion having not even noticed him for a good five minutes.

“Just had a tutoring session…” Mickey admitted quietly, to which Lip’s eyebrows raised so high Ian was sure they were about to disappear into his hairline.

“A Milkovich having tutoring sessions? I never thought hell would freeze over.” Mickey rolled his eyes at Lip’s words. He needed to get the fuck up out of here.

“You staying for dinner?” Fiona asked, and Ian saw the conflict in Mickey’s face. He looked around at all the Gallaghers, then at Ian. They looked at each other for a moment, before Ian sighed and looked away from him as if defeated. Mickey’s eyes narrowed. Ian thought he wasn’t gonna stay? Oh he was gonna do this. Bring it the fuck on.

“Of course!” He said, and Ian’s eyes snapped to him in surprise. “How could I miss your famous…” Mickey nodded towards the kitchen counter and the random assortment of ingredients on it in an effort to work out what the fuck Fiona was actually trying to make. “Dish!” He finished lamely.

“Milkovich? Terry’s son?” Kev asked loudly only to receive a hard smack on the arm from his wife.

“How many fuckers you know called Milkovich?” V asked, despite her interested ogling of Mickey’s slicked back hair and knuckle tattoos. “Thought he’d be dirtier…” she whispered to Ian while Lip engaged Mickey in conversation.

Ian smirked, watching Mickey before replying. “You’d be surprised.” V raised her eyebrows and grinned at Ian.

“You’ve gotta be kidding!” She said, shock evident on her face as she realised the nature of the two boys’ relationship. Ian just shrugged and turned to take his seat at the tiny dining table when Fiona ordered them to. Mickey waited for Ian to take his seat before plopping down next to him.

Mickey knew he’d been somewhat reluctant to be overly intimate with Ian, and that their new closeness was just that – new. But he was kind of miffed about Ian’s reaction to him wanting to leave. It wasn’t anything against Ian, he just didn’t like large, loud groups of people. Something which the Gallaghers definitely entailed.

But Mickey could be the most charming fucker in the world, and he was going to prove it, and prove Ian wrong.

***

Ian sat around the tiny table in the kitchen in utter shock. Mickey had been pretty much entertaining the whole Gallagher clan for most of the first course of the meal and Ian didn’t think he’d ever heard the thug talk this much in his life.

He was being positively charismatic, making Lip laugh with his surprisingly knowledgable and insightful opinions on today’s society and Fiona blush and Ian glare at his blasé comments on her impressive ability to be such a successful parent while maintaining her ‘banging bod’.

In short, he had the whole table giggling and Ian was completely thrown for a loop, especially when Lip asked Ian about school and Mickey subtly reached under the table to grope Ian’s crotch. Ian’s leg involuntarily jerked, sending his foot colliding with the table leg. Mickey just smirked as everyone turned to Ian with confused expressions.

“It’s good.” Ian said, stifling a moan as Mickey massaged his dick through his jeans. “It’s hard keeping up with… With like- school and ROTC and- and work and everything.” The table’s other occupants were watching Ian struggle with concern while Mickey just continued twirling his fucking Bolognese around his fork with the hand that wasn’t driving the redhead crazy.

After a few more seconds of his ministrations Ian slapped Mickey’s hand away from his crotch, masking the sound with a cough as he answered Lip’s questions properly, willing his semi to calm down while Mickey just sniggered next to him. He knew this was punishment for his lack of faith in the thug but damn, if this was punishment he’d have to doubt Mickey more often.

***

By dessert, Ian was pretty sure an imposter had murdered Mickey and stolen his identity for this was nowhere near the Mickey Ian had come to know and fuck if it wasn’t turning Ian on. The charisma and charm emanating from the thug had the butterflies in Ian’s stomach doing summersaults, so when Kev suggested the group head to the alibi and Mickey stood to join them, Ian was quick to jump into action.

“We can’t.” He said and Mickey looked at him questioningly, already half way to the door.

“We can’t get free drinks?” He said, looking at Ian as if he were crazy.

“No. We uh- we have to finish that poem we were discussing.” At that, company groaned but Mickey’s eyes darkened lustfully, knowing exactly what Ian was implying they needed to ‘finish’.

“He’s right I guess. Such a bore.” Mickey said, rolling his eyes and making Lip snigger. With that, the Gallagher clan bid the two boys goodbye and Fiona even paused to pat Mickey on the back. She then looked over her shoulder to give Ian a thumbs up so Mickey couldn’t see. Ian rolled his eyes but felt his heart swell with pride.

By the time the everyone had vacated the house, Ian’s fingers were itching to be on Mickey once again. Mickey closed the door only to turn and be pushed against it.

“What the fuck. Was that?” Ian asked, his face an inch from Mickey’s.

“What?!” Mickey asked, faux innocently. Ian just shook his head before dipping it to suck an angry mark onto his neck, Mickey chuckled and sighed, latched his hand into Ian’s hair.

***

At twelve thirty the others still hadn’t returned from the Alibi and Mickey and Ian had made good use of the empty house.

“Did you mean what you said about Fiona?” Ian mused, almost purring at the feeling of Mickey’s hands running through his hair and over his neck and bare back.

“Hmm?” Mickey asked, cigarette in hand and Ian’s head on his chest, providing a pleasant weight over his heart. He thought it was an ironic metaphor for the effect the big, stupid ginger was having on him.

“About my sister… having ‘banging body’?” Ian mumbled and Mickey snorted, only for Ian to sit up and fix him with an angry glare, leaving Mickey’s chest cold.

“Oh Galla- come on.” He said, stifling a giggle at his angry expression. Ian narrowed his eyes before lying back down on the smaller boy’s chest. When Mickey didn’t immediately resume his stroking Ian reached for the thug's hand and plonked it on his head. Mickey smiled to himself. “If I fancied your sister I would be fucking her, not be here with your ass.”

“As if you would be able to sleep with Fiona.” Ian scoffed.

“Nah, I think she’s taken a liking to me you know. Who knows, might start coming here for some lady muff instead of your firecrotch-“ Ian promptly turned over and straddled him, shutting Mickey up by sticking his tongue down his throat, pinning his hands to the wall above his bead. The brunet giggled as Ian bit Mickey’s lip sharply.

“You’re mine.” Ian said, but his eyes widened when he realised exactly what he’d just said. Mickey looked into his eyes for a second before nodding.

“Okay.” He said. Ian thought he felt his heart explode within him.

“Really?” Ian said.

“Don’t make it a thing, Gallagher.” He said, blushing and avoiding Ian’s gaze.

Ian grinned and dipped his head down to kiss his boyfriend stupid. Mickey smiled into the kiss and wrapped his legs around Ian’s middle, honest-to-god giggling as Ian blew a raspberry on his neck. Mickey was absolutely done for. He was completely whipped and in that moment, Mickey would have done anything to make Ian smile, and if promising monogamy made that happen – he’d do it. Not like he was fucking anyone else anyway, so why not?

***

Mickey left the Gallagher house at around three in the morning, kissing Ian goodbye and wrapping his coat tightly around himself. He lit up a cigarette and commenced the short walk back to his house.

He’d just started the walk when he heard a shout, and noticed the Gallaghers making their drunken way back from the Alibi on the other side of the dark street. Kev was giving V a piggy back and Fiona stumbled along the sidewalk with a sleepy Liam in her arms, laughing and chatting. Lip and Carl were chasing each other around the group as Debbie laughed at them.

Mickey came to a stop and watched the stragglers wend their way back to the house he’d just left and felt an overwhelming sense of homesickness. Homesickness he couldn’t cure. Mandy wasn’t due to come out of juvie for another six months, he hardly saw Joey and Colin anymore and Iggy… As he watched the retreating form of the Gallagher herd, he knew that being with Ian was the closest thing he had to the thing he craved.

A week without the redhead had really put things in perspective for Mickey. He actually wanted to spend more time around the higgledy piggledy Gallagher crew, and now that he had Ian, it seemed he’d finally got his wish, cured his ailment. It was like a drug. Once he’d got a flavour of being surrounded by a large, loud family he wanted it again and again. It had been easy to slip into his old skin, the chatty, funny life of the party like he’d always been among his brothers.

He wasn’t like that anymore. Cole was the loudest, always the centre of attention. Anyone who got in the way of that would have the crazed crackhead to answer to so he’d learnt to keep his mouth shut. Be the brooding, intimidating thug Cole wanted him to be and if he was brutally honest he missed it. Ian and the shit-show that was the Gallaghers was his only chance to gather some sense of… family?

Mickey didn’t know for sure, he just knew that he didn’t think anything bad could come of he and Gallagher’s ‘making it official’, as long as they were careful and discreet. And who knew, he could even get a new family out of it. Mickey liked that idea, he liked it a lot.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I'm late guys. I have been busy af and have just had a lack of faith in my writing abilities as of late, but now I've written this chapter I feel a bit better. Plus you guys are always there to keep me going. Thank you so much, big love. Get ready for the fluff peeps.

Christmas was never a large affair in the Milkovich household. Terry had hated the holiday – claiming it was only a façade for large companies to overprice products and extort heinous amounts of money from consumers (when Mickey had confided this in Ian, the redhead couldn’t help but think how worryingly similar Terry’s opinion sounded like one of Frank’s many nonsensical rants). Mickey usually spent Christmas Eve with Cole, Matt and Damon – doing blow and trashing abandoned buildings. On Christmas Day, Joey and Colin were usually working, so Iggy, Mandy and Mickey used to sit around, get high and detach themselves from the rest of the world for a few weeks.

When Iggy had died Mandy had started surreptitiously leaving Mickey small gifts each christmas, only tiny things like a nug of weed or a new razor. At first Mickey had hated it, assuming Mandy was hinting that she expected a present in return. However it became evident that she thought nothing of the sort, and last christmas Mickey had given in and stolen her a new pair of headphones.

When he’d confessed to Ian how bleak his christmas was looking – being on his own and all – he didn’t know what he’d expected but he should have seen it coming. Ian’s expression of shock was similar to that of someone who’d just been told their pet dog had been run over. He stated that he would be staying at the Milkovich resident for the duration of the two-week Christmas break, with the exception of Christmas Day which the pair would spend at the Gallaghers’. He didn’t bother to listen to the shorter boys’ protests as he knew the thug would eventually give in.

“You know you’d just come find me anyway. You’d miss me too much.” Ian teased, flicking Mickey’s ear with his finger making Mickey slap him on the chest where they lay in Ian’s bed.

“You’re a cocky little shit, Gallagher.” Mickey said, smirking as Ian rolled over to hover over him.

“Yep.” Ian said, popping the P as he kissed down Mickey’s torso.

Two weeks with Ian, alone, should have freaked him out. His guard should have been up. Since when does he let anyone but Damon round his place anyway? Even Cole and Matt had only set foot in the house a couple of times and yet here he was willingly accepting Ian’s demand of hospitality for two whole weeks.

However as Ian’s tongue circled the head of his dick Mickey forgot all about the worries he was meant to be having but certainly wasn’t.

***

  
“How do you even live here?” Ian said, looking around the mess and dirt of the Milkovich house, bag in hand, completely ready for the two-week hibernation he and Mickey were about to embark on.

“Like your place is any better?!” Mickey called to Ian from the kitchen, shutting the oven door with his foot. Ian dropped his duffle and did a sweep of the house. “You’ve been here like, a million times dude. Why you acting like this is a viewing?”

“I don’t know, I guess I never really looked around properly before…” Mickey crossed his arms and leant against the door frame, eyebrows raised. Ian caught sight of him and smirked. “Too many distractions.”

Mickey felt the butterflies erupt in his stomach, as they always did when Ian said something like that.

“Oh yeah?” He said, smirking as Ian walked over to him.

“Can you blame me?” Ian asked, gesturing towards Mickey’s bare chest, sweats the only thing blocking Ian’s view from one of his favourite body parts of Mickey’s. He hooked a finger inside Mickey’s waistband and backed him up against the wall before pressing his lips to Mickey’s.

The shorter boy moaned into the kiss and clasped his hand at the short hairs at the back of Ian’s head. They made out lazily for a while, grinding slowly as their tongues massages each other. But all of a sudden, Ian was pulling away.

“Is something burning?” He asked, sniffing the air. Mickey’s eyes widened.

“Shit!” He said, pushing Ian off him as he entered the kitchen and opened the oven door, letting a great billow of smoke pour out as he swatted the air in an effort to disperse the grey cloud.

Two minutes later Ian was being presented with a plate of black, burnt blobs. He took the plate from Mickey and tried his best to smile without a hint of laughter.

“I made you fucking… pizza bagels.” Mickey said, rubbing his bottom lip and avoiding Ian’s eye. The redhead tried his very best, but he didn’t last long. “Shut the fuck up!” Mickey said, without heat as Ian let out a great snort and a bark of laughter.

“Look at my man, such a domestic God.” He said, still laughing, the plate having been deposited on the sofa he was sitting on. Mickey decided to let the ‘my man’ comment slide in order to tackle Ian to the ground and tickle him till the taller boy begged him to stop.

***

Mickey was in love. No doubt about it, no point denying it. A week and a half with Ian, barely leaving the house and being in a cycle of fuck, eat, TV, sleep had Mickey completely smitten.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d checked his phone, he didn’t think he’d spent this much time alone with someone apart from Mandy, but Lord knows they fought like cat and dog when they spent more than an hour alone together let alone around two hundred and forty of them. He didn’t know why Gallagher was different, but he had yet to get tired of his company. The only spats they’d had were over Van Damme or Segal and whether to have pasta or eggs.

It had been getting harder and harder not to utter those three words to Ian, when the redhead hugged Mickey from behind, laughed at his dumb jokes or when he always buried his head against Mickey’s neck when he came. It had been getting harder and harder, but still not impossible.

He couldn’t help but think it was too good to be true. Guys like him weren’t to be this… happy. Sons of Terry Milkovich weren’t meant to feel so free and open with another person, let alone a boy. Guys like him were lone wolves, roaming their whole lives without anything or anyone holding them back, and yet here he was. On the sofa, his feet in Ian’s lap watching old Friday Night Lights re-runs.

“I like Landry and Tyra.” Ian mused, watching the couple play out the most recent instalment of their everlasting saga on the TV.

“You kidding?” Mickey said, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. “She just uses him, and he just lets her. She doesn’t really fell anything for him, she’s just playing with his emotions to get what she wants.”

Ian’s mind flicked to Ned, and he felt his chest clench with guilt… yet again.

“Yeah but, look at her face.” He said, absentmindedly pointing to the screen where Tyra Collette was finally getting kicked to the curb. “She’s so sad. She clearly likes him.”

“Yeah, keep livin’ in your dream world, Gallagher.” Mickey said, shuffling his feet around in Ian’s lap. “Why we talkin’ so seriously about fucking Friday Night Lights? Show’s shit anyway, I hate all the football jargon.”

“Shut up, you love it.” Ian said, trying and failing to push Ned from his mind. “We’ve been watching it for like, four hours.”

“Yeah well, I wanna see what happens with Matt and Julie. She’s being a little bitch.” At that Ian chuckled, only to be kicked lightly and shushed by his boyfriend.

As they settled into a comfortable silence, Ian contemplated. Was Ned using him? He must like him, even if it was only a little bit. Unlike Mickey, Ian _had_ been checking his phone and found it to be bombarded daily with texts from mostly Jade and Ned. He watched the TV as Landry walked away, leaving an apparently heart-broken Tyra on her own. He imagined that Ned would have a similar expression on his face. You can’t text someone that often and not like them, you just can’t.

He looked over at Mickey, who was finishing his smoke and avidly watching an exchange between Tami and Coach Taylor. He imagined walking away from him. The expression he’d imagined Ned to wear had set of a tiny feeling of impending guilt within him, but imagining walking away from Mickey, leaving him with a look of utter despair on his face made his stomach positively churn. He never wanted to see that look on his face, ever. He’d said it a thousand times before, but this time he meant it.

He was fucking Landry, and Ned was fucking Tyra. How had it taken him so long to see that? That past week with Mickey, he’d come to a realisation. He didn’t need the old man’s stupid money or glamour. He didn’t need his five star hotels or his fancy town cars. He didn’t need the faux-affectionate nicknames and he definitely didn’t need the less than satisfying sex.

All he needed was the boy right in front of him. All he needed was Mickey Milkovich in all his thuggish glory. Without hesitation he removed the shorter boy’s feet off his lap (earning a disgruntled noise from Mickey) and leant forward to lie on top of him, groins pressed against each other through the thick material of their sweat-pants.

“I love you.” Ian said quietly, looking at Mickey’s cheek as the other boy’s head was still turned towards the TV, unbothered by Ian’s sudden movement.

“Huh?” He said, turning back to Ian. _Of fucking course he didn’t hear me,_ Ian thought, _fucking typical_.

“I love you.”

Mickey didn’t say anything. He just bit his lip, and Ian knew he’d fucked up. He felt his face reddening with embarrassment but he stayed his ground.

“I-“ he started, but Ian halted him with a kiss. He didn’t want Mickey to say anything. Mickey reciprocated which Ian took to be a good sign, and before long they had removed each other’s sweats and were grinding on the couch. Mickey reached forward to tug at Ian’s dick a few times, bringing it to it’s full length before biting Ian’s lip as a sign that he should hurry the fuck up and fuck him.

Ian obliged, lining up and pushing slowly into his boyfriend, relishing the sounds Mickey made. He wasted no time in picking up the pace, the boys’ kisses turning merely into ragged breaths and sloppy mouthing.

It was cold, being the middle of December and all but Ian and Mickey were sweating, the shorter boy writhing under Ian as the redhead hit his prostate again and again. Ian was close, but he sensed Mickey wasn’t, so he hooked an arm under Mickey’s leg and hoisted it up against his chest, changing the angle and making the brunet cry out.

“Mickey- Mickey I’m close. I’m-“

“Shut up. Stop.” Mickey said suddenly, making Ian frown.

“Huh?” He said, slowing his movements to a stop.

“I said shut up!” Mickey repeated, looking towards the TV. “Look!”

Ian did as he was told and turned to look at the TV. Landry was getting out of his car and walking up to the Collette house.

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!” Ian said, disbelieving that Mickey had just blue-balled him when he was literally about to nut to watch a fucking TV program. However he too fixed his gaze on the TV.

When Tyra opened the door, Landry stepped forward and kissed her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Mickey shouted, and Ian laughed. “You’re a freaking idiot!” He continued as the couple on the tiny screen made out. Ian sighed as he realised that in theory, Mickey was calling him an idiot too… Which he guessed he was.

“Okay, you can go again now.” Mickey said, looking at Ian expectantly.

“Oh really? Can I? Are you sure you’re not going to want to stop again to find out the fate of Riggins and Layla?” He teased.

“Nah they’re a done deal. Fuckin’ obvious.” He said, pushing his tongue into the corner of his mouth and grinning at Ian.

“You’re a fucking dork.” Ian said, chuckling as he started moving again, determined to finish what they’d started.

When both boys were satisfied, Ian still lay atop Mickey as they caught their breaths.

“Now,” Mickey started, tugging lightly on Ian’s hair so he would meet his gaze. “What I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted…” he was looking at Ian, but the redhead could hear the nervousness in his voice. “Was that… I- I love you too. Asswipe.”

He thought he’d add the half-assed insult onto the end of his profession because you know… it wasn’t a big deal. However Ian’s grin could have replaced the fucking sun and no one would have noticed, it was so bright. He leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Mickey’s lips, before resting his head back on the brunet’s chest to watch yet another episode of what he now considered to be their show.

***

By the time Christmas rolled around, Mickey had decided that Ian enjoyed Ukrainian far too much. He’d taken the time they’d had together to teach the redhead a little of his mother tongue, but he hadn’t expected Ian to take this much of a liking to it… He was an enthusiastic little fucker.

He’d just try out phrases when Mickey wasn’t expecting it. Jumbled, grammatically incorrect and nine times out of ten with the wrong pronunciation he’d spring them on the brunet when he wasn’t expecting it. And although he became disheartened when usually Mickey thought he was speaking in tongues, it didn’t last long. He was absolutely determined to learn more.

“I really like it. It’d be so cool to be bilingual. I wish I was. Like you can just talk in a completely different language that hardly anyone around you will understand, whenever you want! Isn’t that so cool?” Mickey sighed as Ian sat on the kitchen counter and talked at him while he made sandwiches. “You and Mandy could be bitching about me in front of my face, and I wouldn’t know! Well, maybe I would if you taught me more.”

“If I wanted to bitch about you, why would I teach it to you?” Mickey said, fishing out bacon from the pan in which it was frying and placing it delicately on top of the lettuce that Ian had insisted they pay extra to buy on the one and only shopping trip they’d made because ‘it’s healthy, Mick. We can’t survive off pizza bagels forever!’

“True.” Ian said thoughtfully. “I wanna learn it all! I wanna be fluent.”

“Well, you got a long way to go tough guy.” Mickey said, handing Ian’s plate to him before demolishing his own sandwich in a matter of seconds. Ian screwed up his face as he watched his boyfriend eat.

“That’s gross.” He observed, as Mickey chucked his pate in the sink only to find Ian’s sandwich with only one bite taken out of it.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He said, choosing to ignore the fact that Ian then proceeded to eat his sandwich with his mouth wide open.

***

  
“You ready?” Ian asked, wrapping his scarf around his neck as Mickey tugged on his winter boots.

“Yep.” Mickey replied, zipping up his coat, ready to follow Ian out of the door and start the walk to the Gallaghers’.

“Okay, before we go.” Ian said, and Mickey turned expectantly. “I got you this.”

The redhead pulled out a thin, rectangular wrapped gift from his pocket. Mickey looked at it and sighed.

“I thought we said no presents, doofus.”

Ian chucked. “I know but… You’ve let me stay here for two weeks, and that’s a gift in itself.” He approached Mickey and gave him the gift before wrapping his arms around the smaller boy’s waist. Mickey shuffled around a bit before ripping open the brown package.

“Friday Night Lights”

“The movie?” Mickey said questioningly.

“Yeah, it came before the TV series. I just saw it when we were in the store the other day and thought I’d get it for you. We could watch it some time?” Ian asked, and Mickey grinned.

“Yeah, okay.” He said, leaning up to press a kiss to Ian’s lips before walking to the coffee table to deposit the DVD on it, ready to watch.

“Come on,” he said, pushing Ian out of the door. “If we’re late Fiona will skin us alive.”

Even as the two boys walked side by side through the cold streets towards Ian’s home, Mickey changed. He threw cautious looks into his surroundings constantly, as if two teenage boys walking through their neighbourhood was a punishable offence. Ian could feel his becoming more distant. He only hoped the thug would loosen up once they reached the Gallagher house.

When they mounted the steps, Ian wasted no time in shoving open the door and closing it behind them. He backed Mickey up against it, making the shorter boy look at him.

“You good?” He asked.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” Mickey replied, glancing around the corner before chastely kissing the redhead, then pushing him away so he could untie his shoelaces.

“Hey guys!” Fiona shouted once they’d made their presence known. “I half expected you to be dead, just you two alone in that house because Ian sure as hell doesn’t know how to cook and I don’t favour your chances much either.” She teased, pointing at Mickey with the spatula she was holding.

“I’ll have you know that I could be a fuckin’ gourmet chef if I wanted to.” Mickey retorted, flinging his coat over the chair he usually sat at in the kitchen during his and Ian’s tutoring sessions.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Fiona replied, completely sucked in by the charm Mickey always developed seemingly out of nowhere around Ian’s family.

Before long Ian’s entire family plus Kev and V were seated around a table that Ian, Lip and Mickey had constructed in the living room at the last minute when Fiona had realises in a panic that there would be absolutely no way they and all the food would fit on the usual table.

She’d been saving for weeks to put together a huge, actually decent Christmas meal for the family and though Mickey would never admit it, he missed home cooked meals immensely. He looked around at the bunch of people sat around him and was overcome with the same feeling he’d experienced on the night of his first meal with the Gallaghers. As though he had a family again. As though he wasn’t completely alone.

He felt a hand on his knee and looked to Ian who was sat next to him.

“You okay?” The redhead asked.

“Yeah… I’ll tell you later.” He smiled and Ian seemed mollified, leaving his hand on the brunet’s knee as he took another bite of mashed potato.

***

  
Later that night, the Gallaghers plus Kev and V were all dotted around the living room watching The Holiday. Kev and V were intwined on the love seat whilst everyone else was either lying across one another or in Mickey’s case, staying firmly in his lane. He may have admitted his love for Ian the previous night, and although he was starting to consider the Gallaghers to be a sort of second family, the PDA was still strictly not for him.

He thought it might well have been his boyfriend’s thing, but Ian didn’t seen to mind as he lazily watched Cameron Diaz and Jude Law drunkenly kiss. In an effort to compensate, Mickey reached for Ian’s hand and intwined them in-between their bodies, hiding the gesture out of sight of prying eyes. Ian knew more than to react, but Mickey noticed the small smile that remained on his face until their hands untangled.

About an hour into the movie, round about no one was watching it anymore. Kev and V were whispering lovingly to each other on the sofa (a sight that made Mickey want to retch), Fiona and Lip were putting Liam to bed while Carl and Debbie were arguing over who had eaten the most popcorn.

“Hey, what were you thinking about at dinner tonight?” Ian asked, taking his chance to subtly place his arm on the back of the sofa behind Mickey’s head. The brunet blushed slightly, keeping his eyes on the TV but trying his best to answer all the same.

“I just… You know how I usually spend my Christmases and it was just nice. Nice to be here with a big, rowdy family, like mine used to be. I mean, we never made that much of a deal about Christmas but it just reminded me of the once-in-a-blue-moon family dinners we used to have. You know, when Mandy wasn’t in lock up, my brothers weren’t off working their asses off, when mom was here and… and Iggy.”

Ian saw Mickey’s eyes shine in the light off the TV, but didn’t dare interrupt him. He was still getting used to the fleeting moments of honesty he would get out of the thug. He continued in a whisper.

“I miss it. And I don’t know… I know I don’t know your family that well but they’ve all accepted me and I just feel like I have a sort of… I have a sort of family again?” He shuffled suddenly and rubbed his nose, as though he knew he’d said too much. “I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Ian rushed to say, letting his hand lightly rest on the back of Mickey’s neck. “I don’t know what I’d do without my family, and you’re so brave for living alone. I don’t think I could do it.”

Mickey looked at him rather sadly. “It’s not easy.”

“Hey, what’s going on down here?” Fiona said, directing her words at Carl and Debbie who had engaged in a full-blown tussle on the floor over the stupid popcorn. Mickey jumped to his feet as though he’d been hit with an electric shock.

“Going for a smoke.” He said, almost jogging to the back door as Ian sighed.

“You okay, man?” Lip said, dropping into the seat Mickey had just vacated.

“I’ve got my work cut out with this one, I can tell you.” Ian said, tiredly rubbing a hand across his face.

“Why don’t you just dump him? Your teenage years are made for fucking around and smashing and dashing my friend. Use them wisely.”

Ian kept his eyes closed and flipped Lip off, only just stopping himself from admitting that that was exactly what he was doing when he was _meant_ to be in a fucking monogamous relationship. _Christ, I’m a dick_. Ian thought to himself, looking towards the closed back door which he knew Mickey was behind.

***  
The first of January found Mickey and Ian back in their pit that was formerly known was the Milkovich house, settling down on the couch ready to watch the DVD that Ian had got for Mickey. They were still exhausted from last night. They hadn’t gone out or anything, just got really fucking high and fucked about a million times.

The movie definitely wasn’t as good as the series. Halfway through Mickey appeared to become bored, nuzzling Ian’s neck with his own but failing to initiate anything other than Ian’s reprimanding.

“I got you this DVD you ass, we will sit and watch it until the end.” Mickey sighed but folded his arms grumpily and obliged. However not ten minutes later Ian himself could watch the shitty original no longer and repeated his boyfriend’s actions from earlier – resulting in a rough, hard bout of sex on the couch. They didn’t even bother to turn the movie off as they moved around the house, regrettably collecting all of Ian’s belongings that had been strewn over the house over the two weeks he’d been staying there.

The redhead wasn’t heading home for another two days, but Ian thought it was a good idea to start early so they wouldn’t have to waste their last day of bliss together packing.

“It’s gonna be weird going back to school.” Mickey said, attempting to approach the potentially dangerous subject casually. “You know, going back to normal and everything.” If Ian had noticed that he’d placed a tiny emphasis on the word normal, he didn’t comment on it, only continuing to throw his clothes into his duffle bag, determined to torture Mickey for a little while longer.

“We’ll be hanging around with our own friends again, like… without each other and-“

“Jeez Mick, don’t hurt yourself.” Ian said, rolling his eyes. He turned to Mickey who, all of a sudden looked extremely sheepish. “I get it. This was a one off. We’re gonna go back to school and act like it never happened. You’ll be with Cole and his neanderthals and I’ll be with Jade, Melissa and Craig. I get it.”

Mickey’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, trying to work out what to say. Yes, that is what he’d wanted but he didn’t want to act as though their Christmas had never happened.

“Come on now,” he said as Ian turned back to his duffle, he walked forward and hugged him from behind, resting his head between the taller boy’s shoulder blades. “We don’t have to act as though this didn’t happen… It’s just- not at school, yeah?”

Ian sighed, but understood. It’d taken a lot for Mickey to be as open with him as he had been for the past two weeks, christ he’d even said he loved Ian. Even though the redhead hadn’t known him for his whole life, he was willing to bet that Mickey had probably never said that to anyone else in his life, well, maybe Mandy but still.

The thug had risked a lot to even be talking to Ian let alone have agreed to be in a relationship with him, even if it was behind closed doors. Ian could deal with that if it meant he had Mickey all to himself. It made Ian feel sick that at that moment he wasn’t doing the same for Mickey, but he’d made a plan to deal with Ned. He knew he’d do it this time, the realisation of his love for Mickey was all he needed to get out of the downward spiral which was Ned Lishman.

Ian turned in Mickey’s arms and grasped the back of his neck, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips – silently confirming that no, he wasn’t mad and yes, their arrangement at school would still stand. Mickey huffed a sigh of relief and rested his head on Ian’s shoulder.

It was slightly scaring him how little he wanted Ian to leave. He was only going back down the street, but it felt horrible. When they were alone at the Milkovich house they could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Their whole Christmas had consisted of a little bubble which Mickey really didn’t want to pop. He hadn’t seen Cole, Matt or even Damon for a whole two weeks but he found he really didn’t care.

He remembered a time not so long ago where he would count the minutes until he saw Damon again. That may be due to the fact that he used secretly to be completely besotted with him, but now when he thought of his best friend, he thought of only that. His best friend. The thought of carrying any romantic feelings for anyone but Ian was unfathomable to him.

As Mickey stood in his doorway, watching Ian descend the steps outside his house and give the brunet a small wave before starting his walk down the street, a tiny alarm bell rang at the back of his mind at the sinking feeling he felt at the sight of Ian’s retreating form.

This wasn’t good. His heart started beating hard and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the fiery red hair moving further and further away from him. It was as though as soon as Ian had left, he was no longer safe. No one was around to keep him from completely falling. And that’s when the alarm bell began to shriek.

I said I fucking loved him. He thought, pulling himself away from the doorframe and slamming the door shut. His heart was clenching painfully and he knew why. He stumbled into the living room and looked around. Even though Ian had cleared out all his stuff, it was like a part of him was still around. He could smell him in the air and see tiny areas which the redhead had made an effort to clean up or some shit.

In a slight panic, Mickey staggered to his room, searching for his coat before sitting on his bed and frantically digging around in the pockets until he finally found what he was looking for. He pulled out the stupid lighter with the naked lady on it that Iggy had given him. When he was panicky he’d find it and simply roll the striker. Not setting it alight or creating sparks, simply rolling it with his thumb. The action and the scratchy sound it made calming him somewhat.

He took several deep breaths before pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Calm the fuck down. He told himself, you’re only freaking out because you’ve never done anything like this. Just calm the fuck down.

And inexplicably, he did. He felt his chest loosen, his breathing even out. He heaved one last, great sigh before opening his eyes wearily. He placed the lighter on his bed-side table, and as he did so he noticed his phone lying on it. He hadn’t checked it for the last two weeks, and as he aimlessly pushed some buttons he realised it was dead.

He rummaged around in the gap between his mattress and the bedside table, finally extracting his charger and plugging the phone in. He yawned as he waited for the little phone to come to life, thinking about how he already missed the fucking redhead.

When the phone beeped he sighed, lazily picking it up, only to find a landslide of messages waiting for him bringing him crashing back into reality.

(Saturday – 19th December)

**[Damon the Shithead – 12:02]  
What are ur plans for this holiday?**

**[Damon the Shithead – 14:49]  
Yoooo hello? Dude.**

(Monday – 21st December)

**[Damon the Shithead – 16:19]  
It’s been 2 days dude, u dead?**

(Thursday – 24th December)

 **[Damon** **the** **Shithead – 17:33]**  
**We are all going Cole’s tonight as** **usual,** **come.**

 **[Damon**   **the Shithead – 22:03]**  
**Fuck** **u** **for** **leaving** **me with these dicks. I’m such a third wheel rn. Where tf are u?**

(Friday – 25th December)

 **[Damon the Shithead - 10:58]**  
**Merry**   **Christmas.**

**[Damon the Shithead – 11:34]  
U ignoring me now? What is going on?**

(Sunday – 27th December)

 **[Damon the Shithead – 12:45]  
Been nearly** **a** **week.** **Worried** **about** **u.**

(Monday – 28th December)

 **[Damon the Shithead –** **18:09]  
Just tell me where the fuck you are. ** Getting tired of this shit.

(Thursday – 31st December)

**[Damon the Shithead – 23:59]  
Fuck you.**

Yep, the bubble was well and truly fucking popped.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a drill people - the L bomb has been dropped.
> 
> P.S. About Friday Night Lights: Personally I like Tyra and Landry but whatever... Plus I stand by the statement that the series is 10x better than the movie.
> 
> P.P.S. For anyone who noticed the epic mistake I made in regards to the plot in this chapter I suddenly remembered and have rectified it. If you didn't notice it then... Good.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I'd try and I succeeded, yay! Also about 1000 words off finishing chapter 13 so that should definitely be up next Tuesday.

“It’s just not fair on Mickey, you know?”

The middle of January found Ian and Jade at their adjacent lockers, with Jade trying her best to pretend to be interested in Mickey Milkovich’s problems which she’d been listening to for the past three weeks.

“So he went of the radar, no need to get so aggravated. And it’s making him miserable. I can tell every time we’re together. Not sorting things out with Damon and the others is killing him. I’ve been struggling to persuade him even to come to school!” Ian was leaning against his locker spewing his usual rant over the way Mickey’s best friend was treating him.

“I wish I could talk to them but obviously that’s out of the question. Mickey would probably kill me himself…” The redhead fiddled absentmindedly with the already frayed, laminated edge of the lever-arch he got from the dollar store in their freshman year. “It wasn’t that big of a deal, I mean I guess he’s been spending less time with them recently but it’s nothing to get so het up about-“

The slam of Jade’s locker cut him off, making Ian jump. Ian was a good foot taller than Jade, but he couldn’t help but feel wary at the expression she was giving him when she turned to face him.

“Maybe they’re right.” She said simply. Ian narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“What d’you mean?” He said, standing straight. Jade rubbed at the small tattoo on her wrist, the tell letting Ian know she was either nervous or angry. He guessed a little of both.

“It fucking sucks to be ignored, all I’m saying.” Ian opened his mouth to speak but she it across him. “Do you know how many times I texted you over winter break? Or how many times I’ve been blown off so you can spend time with your secret boyfriend?”

Ian crossed his arms and studied Jade. He didn’t know where any of this was coming from. Yeah, he knew he’d been spending a lot of time with Mickey recently but his best friend had never expressed any animosity until now. She seemed to guess he was puzzled so continued.

“I can see why Damon is pissed off because I am too, to tell you the truth. You didn’t answer one of my texts over the whole of Christmas. I wasn’t necessarily worried but it still sucked. You’re meant to be my best friend but the lack of response has started to make me think otherwise.”

Ian avoided her eye guiltily.

“You’re not even going to reassure me?” She said, looking him right in the eye, sadness clear on her face. Ian rushed to correct himself.

“No! That’s not what I mean, of course you’re still my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you!”

She scoffed, and tried her hardest not to roll her eyes.

“Well you’ve been doing a fine job for the last month.” She gave him one last scathing look. “I’ve got bio.” She said shortly before promptly walking away and leaving Ian in a state of semi-shock. What the hell had just happened?

***  
Jade Proctor was an easy-going girl but she had her limits. She stormed into biology, just wanting to sit down and not listen to Mr Stevens’ deathly boring monologuing in favour of stewing over her own issues, but alas.

She had barely sat down when Mr Stevens called to his class.

“Dissecting day has finally come, my friends!” A collective groan answered him, to which he chuckled. “You’re all going to be in pairs, which _I_ will assign.”

There was another group-groan which descended into absent chatting as the teacher looked down his register, deciding which students to pair together. Jade just laid her head on her hands, trying to work out what her and Ian’s little fight had meant. All she knew was that she wouldn’t be completely happy until the redhead got of his stupid high horse and apologised.

When she heard her name being called she sighed, wondering what moron she was going to be assigned with, already knowing that she would probably end up doing all the work.

“… And Milkovich.”

No, she couldn’t have heard that right. Mickey? She didn’t even know he was in this fucking class! She looked around the room and sure enough, there he was. With his stupid earphones in on his stupid phone with no clue that his name had just been called.

“Go and find your partners, and I will hand out your frogs.” She rolled her eyes as hard as she could before collecting her books and bag and heading over to where the oblivious Milkovich sat.

It was clear he had no idea what was going on around him, so she let her heavy bag slam as hard as it could onto the bench in front of him. He startled, but not half as much as anyone else would, or she hoped he would.

“The fuck?” He asked, taking his earphones out of his ears and looking askance at her.

“Dissection. You’re my partner.” She said shortly, rounding the bench and throwing herself into the stool next to the boy who was stealing her best friend away from her.

“I didn’t even know you were in this class.” She commented, not looking at his as she rearranged her books.

“Yeah I uh… didn’t turn up for a while.” He replied, sounding somewhat guilty.

“Yeah no shit, like anyone expected you to.” Mickey rolled his eyes. This was going to be a fucking great lesson he could tell.

“Yeah well, I’ve realised that doing well is the only way I’m gonna get out of this shit-hole so…”

“Oh right!” Jade said, somewhat hysterically. _What the fuck is with this chick?_ Mickey thought, watching Jade pointlessly fiddle with her text books. “Did anyone in particular help you come to that conclusion?”

Mickey looked away from her, sighing. He knew who she was of course, Ian talked about her every time he saw him. The famous Jade Proctor with the daddy who was a lawyer. No doubt a similar situation to his and Damon’s was developing between Jade and Ian.

Before long there was a splayed-out dead frog on a tray in front of them, and Jade was fiercely poking at it with her scalpel, not even remotely following the task Mr Steven’s had set them for the lesson.

“Look…” Mickey started, venturing into the battlefield carefully. His opponent was holding a scalpel at the end of the day. “I know you know about me and… about me and Gallagher.”

“Oh do I fucking know.” She said, poking the frog with even more force. “’Mickey’ this and ‘Mickey’ that. There’s no way I couldn’t know it’s all he ever freaking talks about.”

Mickey tried to stifle the smile that was trying to creep onto his face at the thought of Ian talking about him. Now is not the time.

“Yeah well… What’s the problem?” He asked, deciding to bite the bullet and get down to the nitty gritty straight away.

“What’s the fucking problem?” She asked disbelievingly, abandoning her attack of the deceased frog in favour of handing Mickey Milkovich his ass on a platter. “How about the fact that he never talks about anything but you anymore? He used to be so interested in stuff like, oh I don’t know, me and my problems? Now all he ever talks about is you and your stupid fight with Damon Callaway.”

Mickey knew it was best not to interrupt until she was definitely finished, so he just stayed quiet and let the onslaught run its course. “Or how he thinks he’s got the best thing ever going on with you when you can’t even _look_ at him in public let alone hold his hand. How he literally told me earlier that he was sure you would ‘kill’ him if he talked to your friends? It disturbs me how he thinks that that sentence should even leave his mouth when talking about a significant other.”

That one threw Mickey for a loop. Gallagher seriously thought he would _kill_ him? If he thought about it, yeah, he wouldn’t be happy if Ian approached one of his friends but he would never hurt him. But Jade wasn’t finished. No way.

“I’m worried because he’s giving you everything. He’s ditching friends he’s known for years in favour of you who he’s known approximately two minutes. I’ve tried my best to support him but you’re going to hurt him, we all know it. And before you go and beat him up or some shit for telling us, know that he didn’t. I worked it out because I have two brain cells to rub together. And we won’t tell anyone. Mainly because we don’t want you hurting Ian because people found out about your little love affair.”

Mickey was becoming increasingly confused at the number of times Jade was referring to Mickey potentially hurting Ian, physically or in any other way. Did Gallagher think he would? Did Gallagher think in a million years that he would ever hurt a hair on his head?

“Okay look. I know I don’t have the best reputation around here and you can think what you want about me but you gotta know. You gotta know I would never intentionally hurt Ian.” Jade raised her eyebrows and gave him an extremely skeptical look. “You’re blaming me for what Ian’s doing, how he’s been acting but he’s his own person. I’m not his fucking keeper I don’t make his decisions for him. And at the end of the day you don’t know me. You don’t know that I’d hurt him and you have no reason to believe that.”

“Oh yeah, I have no reason to believe that you’d hurt him, funny. Good one.” She said sarcastically. “What about when I see you beating on freshmen for fucking lunch money, or your notorious fag bashes or Benny Reddner?”

Mickey bit his lip at the mention of Melissa’s brother. He remembered him well.

“I actually didn’t have anything to do with that. I wasn’t even there when it happened.” Mickey said, making Jade narrow her eyes.

“Oh yeah, why should I believe that? It was all over the school.” She said.

“Nah I’m serious.” Mickey said. He actually hadn’t told anyone about that night. Not even Ian, but only because he’d never asked. “If Cole got caught beating anyone up like that he would go to juvie. I was just being a good friend.”

“You took the fall?” She said, still eyeing him suspiciously but slowly accepting the story.

“Yeah. Dumb idea. He would never have done it for me but I can’t exactly take it back now. He’s very persuasive when he wants to be… Got a beating from my brothers and a shitty reputation for basically nothing.” He chuckled somewhat sadly, and Jade felt her resolve start to crumble. “Definitely a feature on my long list of regrets…”

They stayed in silence for a minute, Mickey scratching absentmindedly at his knuckle tattoos while Jade resumed her poking of the frog, however with less violence.

“It really wasn’t you?” She asked tentatively.

“I swear.” Mickey said, holding up his hands in a mock surrender. “And I’ll never hurt Ian. I don’t want to.” He was going to add that he loved that stupid redhead but he stopped himself. He’d revealed enough today. Jade sighed, and Mickey knew he’d won her over.

“I’m still mad at him. He takes me for granted and it sucks.”

“You know you said he talks about me all the time?” Jade rolled her eyes at the thought and nodded, still closely examining the now mutilated frog. “Well when he’s with me he won’t fucking shut up about you.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Seriously? No he doesn’t.” She said.

“Nah I’m serious. It’s annoying as fuck. ‘Ooh Jade said this today, she’s so funny. Ooh Jade did this today, I wish I was as clever as her. Ooh I just love Jade, I don’t know what I’d do without her. Ooh-“

“Shut up, I get it.” She said, smiling and punching Mickey lightly on the arm. “But still. He hurt me and I’m not going to be happy without an apology.”

“Fair enough.” Mickey said, and he meant it. He’d tried talking to Damon but the other boy had been stubbornly ignoring him. It made the time they spent together with Cole and Matt under the bleachers painfully awkward but he would sit through it if it meant that one day Damon would talk to him again.

“You’re not that bad, you know.” She said, giving him a small smile.

“I know.” He said, grinning cockily.

“Shut up.” She said again, then jumping at the sound of Mr Stevens’ loud voice coming from nowhere, reprimanding her and Mickey for mutilating their frog and clearly getting nothing that he’d asked them to do done. The pair only giggled and sighed with relief when the bell rang.

***

  
Ian stood in front of the fancy hotel that he knew Ned frequented. Today was the day. He was going to do it. He was going to end it. He took a deep breath, looking up at the sleek, glass building and walking inside.

“Is Ned here?” He asked the lady at reception, Tara. They had gotten to know each other over the many times Ned had brought him here.

“Oh, hi Ian!” she said in a faux-cheery voice. “He is but ah… I don’t think now’s the best time?”

“I don’t really care.” Ian said truthfully. In the usual room, right?” He said, walking away as soon as Tara nodded her head. Ignoring her call after him.

“I don’t think this is a very good idea!”

He waited patiently in the lift that zoomed him up to floor 23 before walking the familiar route to Ned’s hotel room. When he reached it, he took another deep breath before knocking. About ten seconds passed before it was opened. But it wasn’t Ned standing in front of him.

“Wow…” Ian said quietly, looking the newcomer up and down. “He really has a type.”

“What?” The disgruntled redhead asked tersely. He was more on the ginger side than Ian, who preferred to think of his hair as red.

“Is Ned in?” Ian asked confidently. The man gave Ian a haughty look before calling back into the room.

“Ned? Some boy is here to see you.” Before long the random had left to be replaced with Ned, covered only by one of those towel-robe things you get in hotels.

“Why, hello Ian! To what do I owe this pleasure?” His smile made Ian’s skin crawl.

“Whatever we had… It’s over. You were only using me for your own twisted needs and I see that now. So, I guess you’ve gathered,” Ian gestured into the hotel room, referencing the ginger who was no doubt Ned’s next plaything, “yeah… it’s over.”

“Okay.” Ned said simply, and Ian couldn’t help but feel indignant. The older man didn’t even fucking care.

“So yeah, we won’t see each other anymore. I’m not going to fall for you and your money and your fancy shit ever again.” Ian said defiantly.

“Okay.” Ned repeated, leaning on the doorway as if bored. “Although I don’t know who you’re trying to convince here… Me or yourself?”

Ian narrowed his eyes at the audacity of the old man in front of him.

“Oh go and fuck yourself you old pervert.” That made Ned laugh, all Ian’s insults bouncing off him like he was made out of fucking titanium. Sleek and unmalleable. “Have fun with my fucking doppelganger.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Ned said, before shutting the door in Ian’s face. The younger boy was left stood lamely outside the hotel door listening to his ex and his new boy-toy laughing from inside the room. However his anger dissipated as he felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the guilt he felt about screwing around on Mickey had half lifted. There was still Kash to deal with, but he’d got one out of two knocked down, and it actually felt fucking amazing. He and Mickey had an English session that night, and he couldn’t fucking wait.

***

  
Mickey was faced again with the mountains of poems splayed out on the kitchen table.  
However some of the poems Mickey could see were works he’d definitely never seen before. He rifled through some, taking in the unfamiliar names with surprising interest.

“James Joyce, Oscar Wilde, Robert Frost? Is this all school work? I’ve never even heard of  
them.” Ian looked at Mickey askance.

“You’ve never heard of any of them? Not even Oscar Wilde?” Mickey grimaced under Ian’s  
judgemental stare. After a couple of seconds Ian looked away, gesturing Mickey to sit down.

“These are some of the most famous poets in the world. Their work… It’s exquisite.” Ian  
looked fondly around the table at the seemingly hundreds of poems scattered around the  
table. Mickey watched him, he’d noticed that Gallagher liked poetry, like a lot, but he’d never seen anyone talk about anything so passionately. It was awe inspiring, it seemed like he was in some kind of trance, not looking directly at Mickey, eyes just roaming over the poems over and over again.

“Sometimes when I’m having a bad day I just re-read them all, all my favourites. Going over  
my notes and picking them apart till I know exactly what the author was thinking when they  
wrote each word. Like, sometimes I get really really sad? And I don’t know why?”

It now seemed as if Ian was unable to look at Mickey, and the dark-haired boy wondered if he’d ever told anyone this before. “I don’t want to tell my family, I like to think that I don’t want them to worry, but really I’m just scared they won’t care?”

Mickey’s mind jumped to Jade’s words earlier, how Ian had told her he thought Mickey would kill him if he so much as talked to his friends. He guessed that now was as good a time as any to reassure Ian that that wasn’t the case.

“I know.” He said. “But Ian, you’re surrounded by people who love you. I saw how your family acted when you arrived at Christmas, they missed you that much after a week and a half. I think they’d care if you were feeling shitty.” Ian chuckled at the mention of his crazy family, still staring at the poems scattered on the table in front of him.

“And you got me.” Mickey said quietly. “Because I love you and… And you know I’d never hurt you, right?”

Ian looked up at Mickey, confusion etched onto his face.

“What do you mean?” He said.

“Well… I was talking to Jade earlier and-“

“You were talking to Jade?” Ian said, surprised.

“Yeah we uh, got paired up to dissect a frog. But anyway, she let slip that- that you thought I’d _kill_ you if you talked to my friends, and I just wanted to say-“

“Oh my god, Mickey.” Ian said, smiling as he leant forward across the table to gently touch his boyfriend’s face. “Obviously I know you wouldn’t kill me! Jade just takes everything way to literally. It’s a figure of speech for christ’s sake, it’s the lawyer in her.” He chuckled as Mickey smiled bashfully.

“I- I still want you to know it though.” Mickey said, looking into Ian’s eyes. “I would never hurt you.”

“Same here, doofus.” Ian said, now confident having ended things with Ned, and looking to do the same with Kash very soon. He leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Mickey’s mouth before extending his hand to grasp Mickey’s, pulling him up and unceremoniously dragging him upstairs.

***

  
Ian ran his fingers lightly over the bumpy, dented expanse of Mickey’s back. The older boy lay on his stomach, still in his post-orgasm phase, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Ian’s head was propped up on his elbow while Mickey’s remained firmly stuffed into Ian’s pillow.

“How did you get all these?” Ian asked, not halting the movement of his fingers over Mickey’s skin. Mickey snorted into the pillow.

“How do you think?” He asked sarcastically.

“Yeah but… How?” Ian asked again.

When Mickey didn’t answer for a while Ian was worried he’d pushed too far.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He said, removing his hand from Mickey’s back and retracting it to his side. However Mickey reached blindly for his boyfriend’s hand and even at the awkward angle, managed to drag it beck to rest on his back once more.

“Well as you’ve probably guessed, most of them were from my dad.” Ian grimaced because yes, he had guessed that. “You see all the circular ones? Those were all from cigarettes.” Ian stopped himself from gasping as he looked close enough to see what seemed like hundreds of the tiny circular scars Mickey was describing.

“Most of them have probably faded by now.” Ian felt his stomach churn. “Those were for little things like.. I don’t know, spilling the milk or smashing a glass or something. The two big ones, that run down my whole back?”

At the words, Ian found the scars Mickey was talking about and ran his fingers down each one, they were easily the most noticeable of all. “Yeah those ones, they were from this broken belt he used. The buckle had snapped in half, and the half that was still attached to the leather was… like, really sharp. I guess he saw an opportunity so… never threw it away.” He chuckled but had turned his face away from Ian’s.

“Those were when I accidentally taped the Simpsons over a football game he’d recorded.” Ian’s heart was beating hard. He felt the bile rising in his throat and could taste it on his tongue. “Can you see the dent in my shoulder blade? It’s the right one I think…”

Ian obediently ran his finger along the line of Mickey’s right-hand shoulder blade until he felt the sizeable dent that rested there.

“That was when he hit me so hard with a baseball bat that it fractured my bone. Never got it checked out so it’s just a dent now. I used to play catch with Iggy when I was about nine or ten, but I had to stop because I can’t move my arm properly now. Still acts up when I get into fights sometimes.”

“He did that to you when you were ten?” Ian asked, still tasting the acidic bile on his tongue, feeling sicker and sicker at Mickey’s confessions about what his father had done to him.

“The one-“ Mickey said but Ian interrupted him.

“No. Stop.” He said, withdrawing his hand and sitting up. He’d seen the long, deep scar on Mickey’s wrist and he knew that if he didn’t stop the brunet soon he’d recount that story too and he just wasn’t ready. Mickey turned to look at Ian and mirrored his actions until he was sat beside him.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Sorry… I know it’s a lot-“

“No, it’s not that.” Ian said, eager for Mickey to know it wasn’t his fault. None of this was his fault. “I just cant- I just can’t hear about it anymore. I can’t hear about this being done to you. You don’t deserve any of that. Not now, not ever.”

Mickey smiled at Ian’s words. “I know that Gallagher. That’s why I ain’t beating myself up about the old man being in prison anymore. I used to think I was such a bad son and that I should go to hell for what I did but now? Fuck that shit man, the guy was a fucking dick, and all these scars do is remind me that he’s a useless, disgusting, abusive twat.” He rubbed Ian’s back and the redhead felt himself calm down. Only in that moment did he realise how lucky he was that Mickey was feeling smooth muscle under his hand right now, as opposed to the uneven, marred skin he himself felt whenever he touched his boyfriend’s back.

“Here, I’ll put a shirt on.” Mickey said, already reaching over the side of the bed to retrieve the T-shirt Ian had ripped off him an hour earlier.

“No!” Ian said, grabbing Mickey’s hand before he could fish the top off the floor. “I… I hate them but I love them.”

Mickey looked at Ian as if he was crazy, and the redhead rushed to explain himself.

“I hate them because you never deserved that pain, and you never deserved the hate you got from your father. You deserve love and happiness and safety, and they represent the opposite of that and they remind me of Terry who I’ve never even met but still hate probably more than anyone else on the planet.” Mickey snorted but Ian soldiered on, not letting go of Mickey’s arm.

“But I love them because they remind me how strong Mickey fucking Milkovich is. How far you’ve come and how amazing you are. And how amazingly lucky I am to be with someone who’s so badass as you.” Mickey rolled his eyes but was grinning all the same.

“You’re such a dork.” He said, avoiding Ian’s eye and biting his lip.

“It’s true. You’re one of the most amazing people I know and I _am_ lucky to be with you, and I hope you know that.”

“Yep,” Mickey said, “I am pretty amazing.”

Ian laughed and lay back on the bed, dragging Mickey with him until the thug was splayed atop him.

“I love you.” Ian said.

“I know.” Mickey replied. He leant forward and closed the distance between them. A kiss that started out innocently enough quickly got heated. Mickey wasted no time in sticking his tongue into Ian’s mouth and tangling it with the redhead’s.

Mickey moved to straddle him, with the full intention of riding Ian into the mattress. A position that the two boys still hadn’t tried which was increasingly annoying the Brunet. With excitement and nerves coursing through him he bit Ian’s lip, making the redhead moan and grip Mickey’s waist with more intent. He began grinding hard against him, their two members rubbing against one another. Mickey could feel the precome leaking out of his dick, the sensation making him almost painfully aroused.

However just before Mickey was going to go for the jackpot, Ian pulled away.

“So, you were talking to Jade earlier?”

Mickey flung his head back and groaned. He rolled off Ian’s lap and settled down next to him, his hard-on tenting the sheets but already on the way down. He knew that whatever conversation Ian was initiating probably wouldn’t end for a while.

“Yep.” He said, popping the P while Ian ignored his disgruntled manner.

“How did she seem? Was she okay? Like was she happy or sad or-“

“Well given this was the first time I’ve said more than five words to her in my life it’s safe to say that I have no idea what ‘sad’ or ‘happy’ Jade Proctor looks like.” Mickey deadpanned.

“Yeah but like… take a guess.” Ian said, watching Mickey intently.

“She’s pissed at you, Gallagher.” Mickey said shortly, cutting right to the chase for the second time that day. Ian reacted just as Mickey thought he would.

“What? She said that? Did she say those exact words to you? What else did she say? How pissed is she? Did she say exactly what I’d done? Did she say how I could fix it-“

“Christ Gallagher shut the fuck up!” Ian apologised and hushed himself, waiting for Mickey to speak.

“From what I can gather, it’s a similar situation to me and Damon’s. She’s pissed because she thinks I’m stealing you away or some shit. I told her that you make your own decisions and that I can’t help it if you prefer me over her.”

“Oh my god. You didn’t say that. Please tell me- oh my god I swear to god if you said that.” Ian sat up and reached behind him to pick up his pillow, ready to hit Mickey with it within an inch of his life. Mickey just chuckled and held up his hands in defence.

“No I didn’t say that, do you think I’m crazy?” Ian heaved a huge sigh of relief and flopped back down onto the mattress as Mickey laughed. “You think I’d be here talking to you if I’d said that? I would be six feet under!”

“True.” Ian said, laughing at the thought of Jade’s reaction had Mickey said anything of the sort to her.

“I told her your side of the story, and mine, and she understands a bit better now. But I will say that she said – direct quote – ‘I won’t be happy until I get an apology.’ Which I said was fair enough.”

Ian folded his arms and pouted. “It’s like she’s mad that I’m happy.”

“Don’t be a dick.” Mickey retorted. “You can’t deny you’ve been blowing her off for me. Tell me you wouldn’t be at least a little bit pissed off if that happened to you.”

Regrettably, Ian thought back to earlier that day, when he’d broken up with Ned only to receive absolutely no reaction from the older man. He was happy it was over, but he couldn’t deny that even in relation to that geriatric viagroid he felt a little bit of resentment that he’d been sent well on his way with absolutely no regret or sadness on the other man’s part.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Ian said, still pouting.

“Yeah well, I’m happy you’ve gained insight from my little nuggets of wisdom because you’ve given up a real good time to hear them.” Mickey said, sitting up and collecting his shirt, boxers and jeans from where they’d fallen from the bed onto the floor.

“Well, before you so rudely interrupted our canoodling, I was preparing to ride you so hard into the mattress that you saw stars but alas, you wanted to talk about your womanly issues so here we are.” Mickey stated matter-of-factly as he got dressed. Ian’s eyes widened in shock as his dick stood to attention at Mickey’s words.

“No! Where are you going? Come back!” Ian said desperately as Mickey walked towards the door, now fully dressed.

“I need some fucking food Gallagher, I’m absolutely starving and I know you ain’t got shit in this house so I’mma bounce.” He walked through the door and left Ian, painfully hard and frustrated.

“Fiona is literally shopping right this minute! She’ll be back in like twenty minutes with a fuck load of food!” He shouted, louder and louder as Mickey walked further and further away. He only heard Mickey’s call before he heard the back door shut.

“Not nearly long enough for what I wanted to get done, Gallagher!”

Ian threw himself back onto the mattress and let his hand slide down his torso towards his raging hard-on that lay against his stomach. At least Mickey had given him something to think about. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, about four days after I wrote this chapter I happened to watch 'The Best of Me' and saw a scene extremely similar to one in this fic about Mickey telling Ian how he obtained each scar. I wanted to clarify I definitely did not have that scene in mind when I wrote this (having not even seen the movie), and am slightly peeved that my work in any way resembles that of Nicholas Sparks...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I'm a terrible person for promising for the chapter to be up by Tuesday but I got home from hol and legit fell straight to sleep. Forgive me!

“A B+? Really?”

Mickey was in shock. Even as his boyfriend whooped beside him, grinning from ear to ear, he just needed a minute. It was hard to comprehend. It was only English lit but even one grade above a B+ would increase his chances of getting into some sort of college tenfold. He didn’t have Ian as a tutor for his other subjects but he’d been trying just as hard, if not harder in them (it was sometimes hard to get work done with Ian around), so it was looking up.

He had a midterm in Biology next week, so he guessed that he’d get a good feel for how he was getting on then.

“I need a smoke.” The smile faded from Ian’s lips as Mickey stomped out of the back door at the Milkovich house and plopped down onto the top of the staircase that led into the backyard. He heard Ian follow him out before long.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy…” Ian seemed nervous, he had remained standing in the doorway rather than taking a seat next to Mickey.

“Nah man, I am. It’s just… I never thought I stood a chance, you know?” Mickey sighed, taking a drag on his cigarette and resisting the urge to face Ian. However the redhead finally sat down next to Mickey and patted his knee.

“Um… There there.”

Mickey turned to Ian, a disbelieving look on his face.

“’ _There there_ ’? Really?” Ian blushed and looked away from Mickey.

“I don’t know how to like, comfort you about this shit without sounding… gay.” He said, still not looking at Mickey while the brunet chuckled.

“I hate to break it to you but you sound ‘gay’ every time you moan my name with your dick in my mouth.” Ian shoved Mickey at his words, but began to chuckle too.

“Shut up, I do not ‘moan’.” He said, now blushing furiously.

“Oh yeah right, does this sound familiar?” And Mickey proceeded to carry out a very poor imitation of Ian with an extremely girly voice, moaning out ‘Mickey’. It would have sounded at home in a porno.

“Fuck off, I do not sound like that!” Ian said, shoving Mickey again.

“Prove it.” Mickey said shortly, his voice going right to Ian’s dick, the implication of his words clear. After a moment, they moved simultaneously. They both stood up, Mickey throwing away his cigarette butt whilst Ian opened the back door and the brunet stumbled into the house after him.

Ian gave in to the chase, laughing as Mickey ran after him into his bedroom. He tackled Ian onto his bed and turned him over so that he was hovering over the redhead. He gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before pulling his and Ian’s shirts over their heads and mouthing his way down Ian’s toned torso.

When he reached the redhead’s zipper, he made a show of carefully dragging it down and opening up his jeans, the movements driving Ian crazy despite the two layers of fabric still separating Mickey’s mouth from his dick.

Before long Mickey was pulling down Ian’s boxers, letting his erection spring free, standing firmly to attention. As soon as Mickey saw it, Ian knew that the teasing was over and couldn’t help but smirk at the apparent irresistibility of his cock.

Mickey wasted no time in licking a long stripe on the underside of his cock from balls to tip, making Ian moan but the redhead was determined not to let Mickey hear him say his name. That was the aim of the game, after all.

Mickey quickly attained a rhythm alternating between sucking the head of Ian’s dick to deep-throating him as far as he could. If one thing had changed about Mickey since he and Ian had gotten together, it was the steadily deteriorating condition of his gag-reflex.

It didn’t take long until Ian was a writhing mess under Mickey’s ministrations, the brunet clearly going for gold, not even thinking about stopping until Ian had proved him right. However the redhead wasn’t giving up easily, so Mickey went for the hail Mary.

He tried his best to deep-throat Ian as long as he could, which alone had Ian close to coming before he went for the jugular. He slowly sank down, determined not to stop until he could feel Ian’s wiry pubes tickle his nose and when he did, he swallowed.

Ian spasmed underneath him, but Mickey wasn’t finished. As a last-ditch effort, he pulled his head back, letting his teeth graze the underside of Ian’s dick as he went.

“Fuck, _Mickey_.”

Mickey sucked on the head of Ian’s dick as the redhead came before pulling off, letting Ian have a moment of post-orgasmic bliss before sitting in a kneeling position and punching his fist in the air.

“Yes! Did you hear yourself, man? You sounded like an amateur porn star, probably called ‘Cherry’ or some shit. I am so right. You are so wrong. Deal with it, Gallagher.”

Ian scowled at Mickey from his position on the bed.

“Those were unfair circumstances.” Mickey just chuckled at his words, manoeuvring himself off the bed and heading to the kitchen. Ian lay sated, still in his post-orgasm haze, listening to Mickey potter around in the other room.

“I’m taking the trash out!” Mickey called, and Ian yelled a quick reply before relaxing, fully intending to take a nap. However he was abruptly awoken when not three seconds after the back door had closed, he heard the front door open.

It couldn’t have been Mickey who had entered the house, given that he’d shut the back door about a millisecond before, he wouldn’t have even been able to round the house unless he was the flash.

His survival instincts kicking in real fast, Ian jumped out of the bed as quietly as he could and grabbed his jeans off the floor. He left his shirt, there really wasn’t any time. He looked around Mickey’s room trying to find something, anything to protect himself. He could hear someone walking around the bottom floor, moving things around, the flick of a lighter.

His eyes found a crowbar and he grabbed it, moving stealthily across the room and peeking through the tiny gap Mickey’s ajar door gave him into the living room. He knew who he’d expected to see. Cole. Matt. Damon. And he and Mickey would be done for. Completely.

However when a large, burly man came into view, Ian nearly shat himself. This wasn’t a fucking teenager, this was a fully grown fucking gorilla of a man. No, fuck, two! _Two_ fucking gorillas! They seemed to be scouting the place, and Ian knew they must be bad fucking news if they’d just walk into the fucking Milkovich house in the middle of the fucking day.

To his horror, he heard the back door open and an oblivious Mickey wander back into the house. Ian’s heart was hammering in his chest. These men were obviously looking for trouble and Mickey was about to walk right into it. He had to do something. He had to intervene.

“Hey!” Ian heard Mickey shout and watched, frozen, as the men seemed to turn in slow motion at the sound. Ian had no idea what the fuck was going to happen.

“Hey!” Said one of the gorilla’s, a wide, friendly smile growing on his face. Mickey came into view, and immediately walked to embrace both men. _Well_ , Ian thought, _that definitely wasn’t what I was expecting._

  
The cogs turned in his brain, and as one of the men hugged Mickey, his hand splayed against his shoulder he saw his knuckles. _F-U-C-K._ Of course. How could he have been so dense. Brothers. If he had looked closely enough, he would have seen that they all shared the same, vibrant blue eyes. However Ian would always say that Mickey’s shined the brightest.

Without thinking he let the crowbar fall from his hand, the metal making a loud thud as it hit the floor. Immediately, Joey and Colin’s heads whipped towards the door while Mickey rolled his eyes. Ian took a deep breath before tentatively pushing the door open, he suddenly felt extremely exposed due to his lack of a shirt.

The two brothers looked confused for a minute before putting two and two together.

“ _This_ , is the tutor?” Joey said, turning to a now blushing Mickey, who just nodded before flipping Ian the bird in response to the redhead’s wide grin.

***

  
Meeting Mickey’s brothers had been… an experience. He’d never seen anyone take the piss out of Mickey so mercilessly and get away with it – and Ian guessed that no one else would. But it was nice to see, Ian could understand why Mickey felt so lonely without their boisterous presences in the house.

Mickey was so relaxed around them and Ian felt honoured to witness Mickey so chilled out. Apart from the fleeting glances he shot Ian out of embarrassment whenever his brothers teased him, Mickey didn’t seem phased by the redhead’s presence which pleased said redhead immensely.

The brothers themselves were funny, charismatic and down to earth. From only an hour with them Ian could see how much they cared for their little brother. They were scary bastards to look at, but as soon as they opened their mouths it was clear their appearance was not representative of their personalities, however Ian guessed it helped them out of some sticky situations. Debbie would probably cross to the other side of the road if she saw them coming.

However as soon as they had arrived they were gone. They handed Mickey an envelope before apologising and heading out. They didn’t miss the chance to tease Mickey about Ian on their way out. It was clear that they knew. Ian didn’t know (or care) if Mickey had told them or if they’d guessed, but he liked not having to be on the alert around other people, making sure not to look at or touch Mickey in an incriminating manner. It was just… nice.

“So we never finished talking about your grade…” Ian started quietly, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. Mickey could tell that the conversation was taking a serious tone. He just kept quiet, and also leant against the counter, waiting for Ian to speak his mind. “I… I guess I was just, just wondering if-“

“Christ Gallagher, spit it out.” Mickey said, looking at Ian expectantly. Ian glared at him before continuing.

“I guess… I just don’t know why you’re still here.” Ian started, but Mickey interrupted him.

“Well you’re in my house, so technically I should be asking why _you’re_ still here.” Mickey couldn’t help but tease, trying to lighten the mood. It failed.

“You don’t even know why I was asking you why you were still here!” Ian objected.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Mickey said, grinning cheekily but now staying silent, waiting from Ian to finish his train of thought.

“I just meant, I don’t know why you’re still here… with- with me.” Ian registered Mickey’s eye-roll but blundered on. Half of him was looking for genuine reassurance but the other half of him just wanted Mickey to say it out loud. “I mean, your aim was to pass the year, right? Well you’re passing every paper I give you so I was just wondering why you’re still here.”

Mickey literally thought he might develop a retina issue if he rolled his eyes any harder. He straightened up and stood in front of Ian, so the redhead’s back was pushed against the edge of the counter – effectively crowding him in.

“I’ve told you why I’m still here. I don’t want to pass, I want to do well. I also might be sticking around because there’s an annoying ass redhead that won’t leave me alone who’s hijacked my brain into liking him for some reason, so there’s that too.” Mickey smiled as Ian rolled his eyes and let his hands rest on Mickey’s hips.

“You love me.” Ian said confidently, inching his lips towards Mickey’s.

“For some reason.” Mickey said, closing the distance between them.

***

  
Ian zipped up his flies, not wanting to look at Kash. The older man had called him in for an emergency shift – Linda had to take one of the kids to hospital for running into a wall and getting a concussion. Ian wasn’t surprised that a child of Kash’s would get itself into such a predicament.

Ian doubted very much that Linda had actually needed an extra pair of hands to cover for her, she was only going to be gone for a couple of hours tops, meaning that Kash had called him in solely for a hook-up.

He knew he should end it. He wanted to but he couldn’t. He’d arrived home the previous night to find Fiona nearly in tears over the monthly bills, confiding in Ian the fact that they barely had enough to cover this month’s. Ian realised then with a heavy heart that he’d have to take more shifts and here he was. Literally getting paid for sex. He felt sick.

He pushed open the storeroom door without talking to Kash and unlocking the store’s front door to let in the customers which Ian now saw as golden beacons of light which would distract him from the lingering stares and awkward small talk he received from his boss.

The older man followed him out a minute later and pretended to busy himself with stocking shelves while really trying to catch Ian’s eye and attempt yet again to rekindle the old fire Ian used to feel when looking at him, which Ian now only felt when looking at a certain Milkovich. Thinking about Mickey, Ian whipped out his phone to shoot him a quick text, saying that he missed him and that he looked forward to seeing him the next night.

“No phones on your shift, Ian.” He heard Kash say. In response to his words Ian promptly exited messages only to open snake and waste time until the next customer should appear.

***

  
Mickey was sat in Cole’s living room when Damon arrived. He’d received a text from Cole asking to chill earlier that day. He’d been surprised to say the least, but thought that seeing as Ian was working all day, he might as well agree. He hadn’t seen his friends for a while and thought he owed it to them not to blow them off when he didn’t even have plans.

Damon was still pissed at him and he knew it. In the little pockets of time he spent with his friends he could feel the animosity radiating off his former-best friend. Mickey wanted so bad to make it right, especially after talking to Jade. At least she knew the reason why Ian was paying less attention to her, Damon must just think Mickey didn’t like him anymore or something.

When Damon walked through the door in all his floppy-haired glory, Mickey was the first thing his eyes found.

“The fuck’s he doin’ here?” He addressed Cole, who had apparently been awaiting the last member of their foursome to get down to business.

“Take a pew.” Cole ordered. Damon assessed him warily but obeyed, gingerly sitting in the space on the crappy little sofa in-between Matt and Mickey. The latter felt himself warm with awkwardness and embarrassment. He decided to look anywhere but his friends, choosing instead to observe the familiar interior of the Jenkins residence.

Cole’s house was a tip, always had been. There was a time when Mickey would have considered it his second home. He could paint this place by memory, from every smoke stain on the walls to every scratch and indent on the wooden floor. The last time he’d stepped foot in this house, he didn’t even know Ian and hadn’t admitted to himself that he wasn’t… straight.

As he looked around the dingy, smelly room he was suddenly struck by how much things could change, but also how long things could stay the same. Like how drastically his life had changed since he’d been here last, but he could spot the empty beer can he’d left in the corner of the room when he’d missed aiming at the trash-can. However his reverie was broken by Cole himself.

“Oh my god, guys! Sort it out! I can’t sit in this doom and gloom anymore.” He said, slumping back into the stained armchair (which looked like it used to be beige but was now an ugly brown-grey colour), his eyes were wide, flitting restlessly between Mickey and Damon. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on with you two but it’s so boring. Just stop being pussies and sort it out.”

They two boys he was addressing stubbornly avoided each other’s eyes and folded their arms, pouting like four year-olds.

“I am literally so bored. Let’s just get the gang back together! I don’t know where the fuck you’ve been at, Mick, but it’s been shit. We’re all out of sync. This thing-“ He said, gesturing wildly around the group, “ain’t gonna work if not all the components are there, you know what I mean? If we got an issue, we stick together and sort it out.”

Cole began fiddling around in the pocket of his hoodie and Mickey barely resister sighing in desperation when Cole withdrew what he was looking for.

“So. You two.” He said, pointing between Mickey and Damon with the rolled up one dollar bill he kept on him at all times. “Sort it out. Right now.” He carefully tipped out a measure of powder onto a mirror which had rested on the coffee table for as long as Mickey could remember. “No one’s leaving ‘till you sort it out.”

Damon chanced a glance at Mickey, who caught his eye.

“I’m sorry.” Mickey said, truthfully. He never wanted Damon to think that he thought of him as anything less than his best friend. No matter what. “I know I was a dick. I shouldn’t have done what I did, but you’re my best friend, man. These past couple of weeks… It’s been shit. And I hope you can forgive me.”

Damon sighed as the sounds of Cole sniffing filled the room.

“Woah, dude.” Cole said, tipping his head back and blinking rapidly as the high set in. “That’s like, the most equolent shit I’ve ever heard you say.”

“It’s eloquent.” Mickey corrected him, without thinking. “And yeah, english tutoring.”

Mickey had been away from his friends too long. He’d been with kind, sweet Ian for too long. Kind, sweet Ian who reacts to the piss being taken out of him well. Cole? Not so much. It was evident from the wary glances that Matt and Damon were shooting the pair that Mickey had overstepped, and when Mickey realised – it was too late.

“Yeah, English tutoring.” Cole said, staring at Mickey with a manic glint in his eye. The other three boys sat in utter silence, waiting for the explosion. “You been spending a lot of time with… with Gallagher?”

Mickey’s heart began beating extremely hard in his chest. He’d seen that look in Cole’s eye before. He knew something.

“Um… not anymore time than I have to, you know? The kid’s a fuckin’ nerd. I only see him in sessions, thank fuck.” He chuckled awkwardly, his heart clenching at how he knew Ian would feel if he heard Mickey say these things about him.

“Oh, really?” Cole said. He was talking slowly, as if picking each and every word he said with an intent. An intent to catch Mickey out. “Because, I can’t help but notice that you’ve been… Distant. Ever since you started this… this _tutoring_.”

“Yeah, I’ve just been- been working. My brothers have been on my ass about it, and-“ But before Mickey could finish his sentence Cole’s harsh voice was cutting across him.

“You’re brothers don’t give a shit about school and don’t lie to my face and say that they do.” Mickey quickly fixed his eyes on the floor, knowing that it had been coming did nothing to soften the blow. He’d forgotten how to deal with Cole, how to act around him when he’d wired and how not to piss him off. He was failing on all counts.

“Why lie, Mickey?” The thug’s breathing became shallower, but he bit his lip, determined not to show any signs of weakness. “You think you’re better than us? Ditching us for your fucking studies?”

“No.” Mickey said, because it was true. No matter how much school work he did, he’d always be South Side trash. He knew that, but he also wanted to create a new brand for himself. But he was a long way off, and he was still on their level. No denying that.

“What is it, then. Huh, Mickey?” Cole rearranged himself so that he was crouching on the armchair, his arms tightly wrapped around his knees. He began rocking back and forward in an unnerving manner, setting Mickey’s hairs on end. “It looks as though either you think you’re too good for us or… or you and your _tutor_ are a little closer than just student and tutor.”

Mickey felt his insides turn to ice. Everything seemed to freeze. Cole crouched in the chair, Damon sending him a fearful glance and Matt staring straight ahead. Mickey didn’t even know if he was listening.

How the fuck did he work it out. How did he know? He’d been so careful, so cautious to make sure he and Gallagher never gave off even a hint of what was really going on, but it seemed that his caution had been his downfall.

He didn’t know what to do. His brain seemed to be frozen in time. But he had to get it together. He had to think.

“What?” Mickey laughed, forcing out great barks of laughter in the face of Cole’s accusation. “Me, a fag? Yeah right, we both know I’ve bashed just as many of ‘em as you, big shot.” It was a risk, but it paid off.

“That’s what I thought.” Cole said after a moment, grinning at Mickey in a way that still made Mickey’s insides crawl. “Because, obviously you know what’d happen if that were true, right Mickey?”

“Well, I know what I’d do but enlighten me.” Mickey said, in a convincing but faux never the less manner, grinning right back at Cole while his mind seemed to simultaneously race and stop dead. Cole stopped smiling, reached into his pocket and withdrew a smoke, only deeming to answer Mickey’s question when he’d lit it and taken a couple of drags.

“Well, I’d have to kill you. You and you’re little boyfriend.” There was a moment when the two boys’ eyes met, just a split-second where Mickey knew it was true. He felt the bile rise in his throat but refused to break the stare. It came, and went. Cole’s mouth stretched into a grin, and Mickey joined in, laughing along with the boy in front of him as though he hadn’t just threatened him with his life.

Mickey felt his phone vibrate and knew who the message was from. He withdrew it, tilting the screen away from Damon as sure enough, Ian’s name appeared on the screen.

“Shit guys, I gotta bounce. My brothers are at the house to drop off my money.” Mickey glanced towards Cole as he got to his feet, who now seemed to be entranced by the zipper of his hoodie – something Mickey took to be a goos sign. If he was still suspicious, he’d be watching him like a hawk.

Mickey turned to Damon – after all, Cole said no one leaves until their shit is sorted.

“We cool, man?” Mickey said, extending a hand out to the still-sitting Damon, who hesitated, before reaching out with his own and clasping Mickey’s briefly.

“Yes!” Cole said in celebration. “You’re back, Mick. You’re back.”

Mickey just grinned and fist bumped Matt before doing the same with Cole.

“See ya later, losers.” Mickey said before swaggering out of Cole’s front door.

When he was outside, Mickey took a cautious glance at the living room window before strutting down Cole’s street until the house was out of sight, only then did he start to run. He ran as hard as he could, as fast as he could towards his house, towards safety.

He could feel his legs begin to give up on him, his lungs not doing much better. When he reached his street he jogged the last couple of metres before grasping the gate that led to his front yard and taking heaving breaths, bracing himself on the iron and bowing his head, trying to get his heart rate under control.

He ran over what had happened in fast-forward, Cole’s leering face firmly imprinted in his brain, the reality of the situation crashing over him like a bucket of iced water. Without warning, Mickey retched and threw up. His stomach churning, his head killing him.

He felt his phone vibrate again, reminding him that he had an unread message. Panting, Mickey withdrew it and fumbled over the buttons, taking a full minute to open the message.

**[Matchstick Nerd – 16:27]  
Miss u, can’t wait to see u tomorrow. P.S. Bored af here.**

Mickey read and re-read the message about four times, each time thinking the same thing over and over again.

_What the fuck was I thinking?_

***

  
The next night Ian sat at the Gallagher kitchen table, poems spread in front of him. Everything was normal apart from the notable absence of his boyfriend. They’d arranged for Mickey to be here an hour ago, and Mickey hadn’t once been late to one of their sessions since he was playing Ian around when they first met.

Ian checked his watch for the millionth time with a sigh. He’d refrained from texting Mickey for this long, but the situation was becoming ridiculous and if he was honest with himself he was kind of worried. He was sure that Mickey would have texted him by now, if all was well.

He shot off a quick text and slumped back into his chair, staring glumly at nothing while he waited. He heard someone enter the house and turned to see Fiona heaving groceries into the kitchen.

“Hey, pumpkin! No Mickey tonight?” She asked, dumping the bags onto the counter and beginning to unload them.

“He was meant to be here an hour ago.” Ian said quietly. Fiona cued onto his mood and sighed.

“I’m sure everything’s fine. Did you text him?” Fiona asked, observing Ian with concern. He nodded. “He’ll get back to you soon, hon. Don’t worry.”

Just as she finished her sentence, the loud buzzing of Ian’s phone vibrating filled the room.

“It’s from him.” Ian said, rushing to unlock his phone and read the message.

“See? Told you so.” Fiona said, visibly relaxing at the information. However the text Ian had received did absolutely nothing to cheer him up.

**[Mickey – 21:02]  
Not coming. On a trip w my broters for a week. Last minut thing.**

Ian frowned at the text. The spelling mistakes hinted at the fact that Mickey wasn’t sober, and the manner was blunt. Cold. Not like Mickey at all (well, not the way Mickey talks to Mickey at all).

Ian didn’t know what was wrong, or if anything was wrong. All he knew was that this wasn’t like Mickey. Not turning up to a session, not letting Ian know, and going on a last minute trip. From what Mickey had told him from he and his brothers’ business trips, they were planned weeks, even months in advance. Not hours.

He typed out a quick reply and slipped his phone into his pocket, standing up and starting to gather his poems from the table. Whatever was going on, he had a bad feeling.

***

  
**[Matchstick Nerd – 21:04]  
Okay. Keep me updated. I love you.**

Mickey damn nearly threw his phone at the wall in his drunken haze. _What made Gallagher think he had the right to say those things to him?_ Then he realised. He’d fucking let him – encouraged it even. He’d allowed Ian, a fucking guy to touch him, kiss him, tell him he loved him. And he fucking said it back.

He sat on the worn-out couch, bottle of jack in one hand while the other rummaged sluggishly for a cigarette. One phrase was just repeating over and over in his head. So many times that the words were beginning to lose their meaning: _What the fuck was I thinking?_

This couldn’t happen. How did he ever think he could have played happy families with Ian. A guy. How could he be so fucking stupid. So fucking obvious. Of course his friends would realise something was up. He never ditched them before, but then Gallagher pranced along like a magical unicorn and put him in a trance that had effectively turned him into a knucklehead.

He felt the bile rise in his throat for the billionth time that night. He couldn’t bare to reply to Gallagher’s text. It had to end. He didn’t know what ever possessed him to actually think it could work, that any of it could work. Ian, school, any of it.

Seeing his friends had brought him crashing back down to earth.

_What the fuck was I thinking?_

He couldn’t ‘better himself’ or whatever the fuck bullshit he’d been spewing to Ian.

_What the fuck was I thinking?_

He couldn’t get out of this neighbourhood. He’d be there for the rest of his life. He knew that now, deep down he’d always known it.

_What the fuck was I thinking?_

He couldn’t kid himself into thinking anything with Ian could work. Ever. It wasn’t fair on anyone involved, certainly not Ian. He couldn’t be in a relationship, he couldn’t come out of the closet, what did Ian think was going to happen? That Mickey would hold his hand around the city? That he would kiss him, even fucking _talk_ to him in public?

As Mickey looked around him, bleary-eyed, all he could think of were the memories that he and Ian shared on this couch, in this whole fucking house. He stood up, reaching blindly for his coat. He needed a fucking walk. He took a quick look around the living room, and suddenly saw a vision of Ian walking through the door from Mickey’s bedroom, smile wide and eyes bright.

He groaned and pushed his way out of the door, stumbling down the steps and onto the sidewalk, bottle of jack still in his hand.

_What the fuck was I thinking?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here starts the angst... Don't hate me too much! Comments and kudos always, always appreciated xxxxxx


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I made it for Tues!

Four days. Four days and nothing from Mickey. Not a phone call, not even a measly text from his boyfriend and Ian was beginning to worry. Mickey had said that his brothers didn’t let him take his phone on trips but he had a bad feeling.

Two days ago Ian had been pissed. Of course he had no evidence to base his hunch upon, but Mickey’s text had been so blunt and cold. However two days later and he’d surpassed pissed and skipped straight to worried.

He’d taken the route to school which passed Mickey’s house every day since the thug had texted him, but seen no sign of movement within the house whatsoever. However, just when Ian was about to give up and scold himself upon doubting his boyfriend’s integrity, he noticed something which confirmed his hunch completely and absolutely.

On Friday morning, Ian trod his now-usual route to school, only glancing at Mickey’s house. However he did a double-take and stopped dead. Mickey’s car was gone. His ugly little CVCC was gone from the driveway, and Ian knew it had been there yesterday. He couldn’t have missed that eyesore if he tried.

Ian stood immobile on the sidewalk across from the Milkovich house, the cogs turning in his brain as he got angrier and angrier with every second. _What the fuck?_ Why had Mickey lied to him? Thinking back to the last time he’d seen Mickey, they had definitely parted on good terms. There was nothing he could remember that would even remotely pass as an argument, so why the fuck was Mickey lying about his whereabouts?

Taking a deep breath, Ian gave the old house a heated glare before continuing on his way to school. Mickey hadn’t been there all week, but Ian took that as a good sign – Mickey had admitted that school was now rather important to him, so his absence was a point in his boyfriend’s favour.

However now that Ian knew he was at home, his not being at school raised another red flag. What was Mickey playing at? Before the redhead knew it he was standing in front of his locker, grabbing the stuff he needed for English lit.

There was only one thing for it, he would go over there later and demand Mickey tell him what was going on. With this plan in mind, Ian stormed to English and reprimanded himself when his heart dropped upon realising Mickey wasn’t going to turn up.

***

It had been stupid – taking the car out. Mickey knew it, but he didn’t care. He wanted some fucking booze and he was going to get it. He’d seen Ian walk past his house every morning, taking a second to assess the building as if he knew Mickey was in it every time, but instead of coming closer to investigate, he just walked on. Mickey was glad.

He told himself that he took the car out as a last ‘fuck you’ to Ian. He knew he’d walk past and see it missing, knew that he’d be hurt and angry at the confirmation that Mickey had lied to him and it would send a message to the redhead to back the fuck off and that would be that.

However, deep down under the newly replaced layers that Cole had carefully lain over his true feelings, he knew why he’d taken the car. He wanted Ian to be mad, to be hurt, but only so he’d confront Mickey about it. He _wanted_ Ian to storm into the house, yelling about what a dick Mickey was, how inconsiderate and worthless. _That_ would let Mickey know that Ian hated him, that the redhead would be able to get over him nice and quick, without any feeling of regret.

Mickey _was_ a dick, and Ian deserved better. The sooner Ian realised that, the better off everyone would be. So yeah, he took the car out, getting obscenely drunk in some parking lot before fumbling to unlock the car so he could drive home, to what (or who) he knew was waiting there for him.

***

Ian sat on the steps of the Milkovich house, waiting for Mickey to return from wherever the fuck he was. The longer he waited, the darker the skies above him got, and the angrier he got. Mainly at Mickey but also at himself over the fact he’d forgotten gloves. He tried to light a cigarette only to discover his hands didn’t work.

He was just putting the lighter back in his pocket when headlights turned into the drive, no doubt illuminating Ian, and making the redhead hold a hand up to block his eyes from the glare. He lowered it tentatively as the lights dimmed then turned off completely.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could just make out the driver’s door opening and a figure slide unceremoniously from the car, stumbling slightly as the door shut and the silhouette made its way slowly towards the house.

Mickey said nothing as he walked towards Ian, not even looking at him in favour of the bottle of cheap whiskey in hand. He simply trudged up the stairs and completely bypassed the redhead, opening the front door and tripping over the threshold, slamming the door behind him.

Ian remained on the stairs, frozen in shock. _How fucking dare Mickey ignore him like that?_ And with that Ian was on his feet, angrily flinging the door open and shouting Mickey’s name.

Inside the house, Mickey grimaced. His prediction had come true, but it didn’t make things any easier.

“What the fuck?!” Ian shouted at Mickey, who was slumped on the couch in the living room, watching some infomercial channel on the TV. “What the actual fuck?” Ian continued.

“Where the fuck have you been? Well, obviously not on a fucking business trip with your brothers!” Ian said, gesticulating before laughing somewhat wildly. “What have you been doing, huh? Missing school, ignoring me, getting fucking drunk by yourself?” Ian asked, gesturing towards the bottle Mickey had just taken a swig from. Mickey’s silence enraged Ian even further.

“Tell me!” Ian shouted. “Where have you been?! Sitting here feeling sorry for yourself? Why the fuck are you acting like this? What did I do?!”

“Don’t flatter yourself Gallagher.” Mickey slurred, and Ian’s face turned beet red with rage.

“Oh! He speaks!” Ian shouted, while Mickey just avoided his eye, sipping at the whiskey idly. “Go on then, tell me. Tell me what the fuck is going on, because I don’t deserve this.”

There was a moment of silence before Mickey sighed, and spoke.

“No, you don’t deserve this. So you better go.”

Ian was shocked into silence for a second, before a great wave of frustration rolled over him. Why the fuck was Mickey being so casual? As if none of this fucking mattered to him? Ian hadn’t even been that angry, but Mickey’s flippancy had thrown him for an absolute loop.

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Ian said disbelievingly, and in that moment, Mickey finally chose to react. He jumped to his feet, turning to Ian and getting up in his face.

“Yes Gallagher, I am fucking serious. You need to get the fuck out of here. We can’t fucking… We can’t fucking do this anymore.” He stepped back, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth and avoiding Ian’s gaze.

“What do you mean we can’t do this? What’s changed since Saturday?”

“I’ve realised how fucking stupid I’ve been.” Mickey said, looking into Ian’s eyes as he told Ian the truth. “I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking these past couple of months. You’ve- you’ve just fucked everything up. My life was simple.. easy. Before you came and ruined everything. I don’t know who the fuck I am anymore.”

Ian stood in silence, his eyes glazed but determined not to let a single tear fall.

“You haven’t been coming to school.” He stated dumbly, at a loss for what else to say.

“Yep, no use me going to that shit-hole anyway.” Mickey said, turning away from Ian to grab his cigarettes.

“Why?” Ian said, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“’Cause,” Mickey said, pausing briefly to light his smoke. “We both know how I’ll end up, if I go to that place or not so why bother?”

“What do you mean?” Ian said hopelessly, trying his hardest to understand what had changed within Mickey’s mindset for him to get to this place.

“I’m never gonna get out of here. I’m gonna take over my brothers’ company and work here, in Chicago for the rest of my life. Probably won’t ever move out of this house, get myself a wife, kids. All that jazz.” He scoffed, shaking his head as he looked at the floor, running a hand through his hair.

“You don’t want that. You don’t want any of that.” Ian said, and before he knew it Mickey’s face was only inches away from his own.

“That doesn’t fucking matter, Gallagher!” Mickey shouted, but Ian didn’t flinch. “Don’t you get it? People like me… We can’t just- just do whatever the fuck we want. Even if I did get out of here, no one would take me seriously. Just a dumb white boy from the ghetto. People are gonna judge me for the rest of my life, ‘ _you can’t take the South Side out of the kid’_ and all that, so why take the kid out of the South Side in the first place?”

“What has that got to do with… with us.” Ian asked, looking at the cuff of his sleeve as though it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“What hasn’t it got to do with us? There is no us. There can’t be. We were fucking kidding ourselves. What did you think was gonna happen? We were gonna hold hands down the fucking sidewalk and not get beat on? There’s a reason there are no fucking faggots in the South Side, Gallagher. They’ve either been whacked or are smart enough to keep their fucking mouths shut.”

“You love me.” Ian said, making Mickey scoff and turn away from Ian once more, throwing himself back down on the couch. “What happened to bettering yourself? What happened to wanting to get out of here?”

“I saw sense.”

“Who made you ‘see sense’?” Ian asked, because he was sure this was the key to answering why Mickey was acting this way.

“My real friends.” Mickey said, taking yet another sip from the bottle of whiskey.

“Oh, Cole?” Ian said, voice thick with distain. “I knew it. I fucking _knew_ it. You can’t be serious.”

Mickey ignored the redhead, staring at the TV as though he was seeing through it.

“Let me tell you something.” Ian said, and Mickey neither encouraged him nor objected. “Who you are when you’re with… _them_ , and who you are with me… They’re two different people.”

Mickey said nothing. He wanted to shout at Ian that he fucking knew that. He knew they were different and he knew which one he’d rather be, but it just didn’t work that way.

“As yourself, which one was happier. Which one was more eager to get up in the morning? Which one felt the need to drown his sorrows or whatever the fuck he need to drown to feel good about himself?” Mickey sighed, feeling his eyes burn. “Which one do you like more?”

Mickey got to his feet yes again, pacing the room, still avoiding Ian’s eye.

“All that shit about you having to stay here for the rest of your life – it’s bullshit. I know it, you know it. I know you, Mickey.” The brunet stopped in his tracks, and couldn’t help but look Ian in the eye. “Even if you think I don’t, or you don’t want me to, I do. I know you. And I know that this-“ He gestured towards Mickey, “This isn’t you.”

Mickey took a deep breath and felt tears prick the backs of his eyes, but he blinked rapidly, keeping them at bay.

“You can do this. You want to do this. You want to get good grades, you want to get out of this shit hole, and…” Ian paused, as though considering his next words very carefully. “And you want to be with me.” He said defiantly, stretching to his full height as though challenging Mickey to disagree.

Mickey stared at him. He knew he was right, and as Ian had been talking, Cole’s voice which had been playing on repeat in his head for the past week had been fading away, leaving Mickey’s head pleasantly filled with thoughts of the boy in front of him, and how much he’d missed his stupid voice.

He was right. He knew it, deep down. He did want good grades, he did was tog et out of here and he wanted to be with Ian. As Mickey moved, all thoughts of how unrealistic Ian was being were pushed out of the thug’s head. He wanted nothing more than to just be with Ian in that moment.

So in a swift movement, Mickey dropped the bottle of whiskey to his feet and in one step reached Ian, snaking his hand around the back of the redhead’s neck so he could pull him into a kiss.

Ian’s reaction was instantaneous. He wrapped his arms around Mickey’s waist as he licked and bit Mickey’s bottom lip, willing the brunet to open his mouth. Mickey slid a hand through Ian’s hair and opened his mouth only slightly, only just allowing Ian’s tongue to touch his own. Mickey pushed Ian blindly until the redhead’s back hit something solid.

Once he’d started, Mickey didn’t think he’d be able to stop. With Ian’s hands, with his mouth on him he knew that he’d been kidding himself. He could never have just cut off all contact with Ian, it was a joke and he knew it. Ian’s touches were electrifying, sending pulses of energy through his body with every movement. He couldn’t bare to even think about Cole and all the manipulative bullshit he’d taken in from the blond sack of shit.

He didn’t want what was best for him, he just wanted Mickey to stay with him, stay a failure in this shitty neighbourhood forever. Ian wasn’t like that. Ian wanted him to succeed, wanted him to have a good life, to be happy.

Mickey pulled away from Ian so that the redhead could shuck his coat off and slide his shirt over his head, before attacking his mouth with his own once more. Mickey let his hands roam freely over the taught muscles of Ian’s torso, arms and back. Ian’s hands were everywhere, and even through the thick material of his winter coat and the many layers of clothes he had on, everywhere that Ian had touched remained red hot in his wake. Too many fucking layers.

The brunet practically ripped his coat off of himself, reluctantly dragging his mouth away from Ian’s to remove his sweater and shirt, so the two were both left shirtless. Ian leant forward, grabbing Mickey’s waist, kissing and sucking on his neck. Mickey moaned and Ian turned him around so that the brunet was the one up against the wall.

Mickey slid his hands down Ian’s front and fumbled with his belt buckle. Even though he’d now come to his senses, he was still rather drunk. Ian chucked and aided him until the offending pants were off and crumpled on the floor. Once Mickey’s were also off, Ian grabbed Mickey’s waist and hefted him up against the wall, prompting Mickey to wrap his legs around Ian’s middle. Ian pulled away from Mickey’s neck, breathing heavily.

“Bedroom?” He asked breathlessly.

“No. Right here.” When Ian was looking at Mickey, the thug just knew that he couldn’t wait a minute longer for Ian to be inside him. “Fuck me right here, Ian.”

Ian was rock hard and Mickey could feel it through his boxers, resting snugly between his cheeks. At his words he thought he felt it twitch, but it could have been his imagination. Mickey took Ian’s face in his hands and kissed him, drawing a moan out of the redhead.

Ian hurriedly used one of his hands to sloppily drag down his boxers just enough to let his cock spring free wile Mickey did the same. Mickey took a moment to marvel at how Ian was basically supporting his whole weight with one arm (yes, the wall was there but whatever). It did nothing but turn him on more, watching the muscles in Ian’s bicep contract as he struggled with his boxers.

Mickey moaned when he felt Ian’s now bare dick rut wetly in between his cheeks. Ian spat on his hand and reached down in between Mickey’s legs. He’d expected Ian to stretch him, but without warning, Ian pushed in. Mickey knew it was Ian’s not-so-subtle way of punishing him for his week of silence, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.

Yeah, fucking without being stretched hurt like a bitch, but in a good way. Ian’s cock was wet with precome and spit as he pushed in and Mickey gasped before moaning, which Ian took as a good sign to start moving.

Ian wasted no time in gaining a blistering pace, obscene sounds of skin slapping upon skin filling the room, causing Mickey to become impossibly harder. They were no longer kissing, their mouths merely touching as they both took ragged breaths. Mickey’s arm was looped around Ian’s neck while the other was resting on his face.

The cold of the wall behind him was a nice contrast to the heat of Ian’s body plastered to his front. Ian kissed him and hitched Mickey’s leg higher around his waist, and Mickey cried out as he saw stars.

Knowing that he’d found his boyfriend’s prostate, Ian chuckled into Mickey’s ear as the brunet’s head fell forwards until it rested on Ian’s shoulder.

“Fuck, Ian. There.” Ian complied, somehow managing to redouble his efforts, hitting Mickey’s prostate with every thrust, reaching down to tug at Mickey’s dick. The brunet felt his toes curl.

“I’m so close.” Mickey whispered.

“Good because I’ve needed to nut for the last five minutes.” Ian confessed, and Mickey just laughed. It started as a chuckle which then turned into a full belly laugh, and his orgasm took him by surprise as he and Ian came together, both laughing.

They stayed in the same position for about twenty seconds before Ian spoke up.

“My arm is cramping.” It only set Mickey off again and Ian pulled out of him, laughing again as well. The two boys slid to the floor and Ian immediately reached to his right to retrieve his T-shirt so he could wipe them down.

***

“You know you’re gonna get out of here.” Ian said quietly, handing the cigarette they were sharing back to Mickey.

Mickey didn’t reply immediately. They hadn’t moved from their spot on the floor of the living room. They’d merely sat in silence for a bit, coming down from their high, still immersed in their post-orgasmic bliss.

“I know.” Ian turned to look at him, waiting for an elaboration. Mickey sighed, but complied. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened I was just… just-“

“Scared?” Ian supplied. Mickey scoffed for a second before looking at Ian, then the floor and giving a tiny nod.

“I know. Me too.” Ian said. “I’ve never done this before either, you know.” Mickey turned to look at him, surprised.

“What?” Ian asked. “I’ve never had a boyfriend! How hard is that to believe?” Mickey snorted and nodded.

“You’re so fucking sappy, could have fooled me.” Mickey said, taking a drag on the cigarette before coughing when Ian socked him in the arm.

“I am the perfect amount of sappy, thank you very much.” He said, chucking all the same. “I hate Cole.”

“That was random.” Mickey said, frowning.

“Well I do, and I hate him manipulating you like this.”

“I’m not being fucking manipulated. I’m not a pussy.” Mickey said, feeling defensive at the fact Ian thought his mind could be so easily fucked around with.

“It’s not your fault.” Ian said, “He just is. He’d very good at it, so good he secretly manipulates everyone around him. I bet that you think you know him so well, and that he’s so open when really you don’t know about half the skeletons he’s got in his closet. I just think he’s not good for you.”

“We’ve been friends for years.” Mickey said. He suddenly felt very exposed, sitting there naked on the floor. He reached for his boxers and struggled for a second to pull them on. “He was friends with me through all the shit that happened with my dad.”

“I know, and I wish I could have been there instead but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an evil, manipulative cunt.” Mickey grimaced at Ian’s words, not understanding why he felt the need to stand up for Cole.

“He’s not that bad when… He’s alright it’s just…”

“See?” Ian said, gesturing towards Mickey. “You’ve been ‘friends’ with him for years but you can’t think of a single reason as to why he’s a good guy.”

“It’s just weird-“

“He’s a dickhead, Mickey. He doesn’t want what’s best for you, he just wants you to fail like he inevitably will.” The brunet sighed as Ian repeated the exact notions that Mickey had thought not half an hour ago.

“Why won’t you just admit it.” Ian asked calmly, and Mickey exhaled forcefully in frustration.

“Admit what, Ian? That I hate him? That sometimes I wish we weren’t friends at all and never had been? That I think my life would be a lot easier and freer without him in it? Because I can tell you all that right now but it doesn’t change anything. Once you’re friends with him you’re in it for life. Nothing you can do. Even if I wanted to cut ties with him it wouldn’t be an option. I want to be with you, Ian, but Cole is just a barrier that we can’t knock down or whatever, and I’m sorry but as long as I’m friends with Cole and we’re still in the godforsaken city we can’t be… open.”

Ian was quiet as Mickey finished his rant, he just looked at his boyfriend, taking a drag on his cigarette once in a while. Mickey took his silence to mean he was mad.

“Whichever comes first, Ian. Either I’m not friends with Cole or we get the fuck out of here and maybe… maybe we can consider being… more open? I don’t know. But the thing with Cole, it’s not going to happen anyway so it’ll just have to be when we get out of this shit-hole” He said, putting his head into the palms of his hands.

“Do you see what I mean now?” Ian said, willing Mickey to understand that his rant had just confirmed everything that Ian had been trying to tell him. “Cole is toxic, and you don’t need him in your life.”

“I can’t get rid of him.” Mickey replied simply, and the two boys thought in silence for a minute, before Ian smirked.

“Maybe you can’t stop being his friend… But he can stop being yours.” Ian said thoughtfully.

“The fuck are you on about?” Mickey asked.

“Well… You can’t want out, but maybe he can.” Ian said, and Mickey looked at him, still puzzled.

“Like… He stops wanting to be friends with me instead of the other way round?” Ian nodded, but Mickey was still confused. “How though?”

“Well… You say he’d never associate with someone who was gay-“

“No. No fucking way, Gallagher.” Mickey said, upon realising what Ian was implying. “If I told him… He would kill me.”

“Not necessarily.” Ian said. Mickey scoffed but Ian spoke over him. “No, no. Hear me out. Say if you told him in somewhere crowded, in the day. He wouldn’t be able to do anything without being arrested on the spot. You said you took the fall for him with Melissa’s brother because if he got caught doing something stupid he’d be sent to juvie.”

“No way.” Mickey said, although the plan was looking more and more enticing to him. “He’s almost eighteen, he’d actually probably be sent to big boy jail.” Mickey said, only then realising that the statement was definitely a point in Ian’s favour.

“All the better!” Ian said, then if he does something stupid at least we know he’d be sent away for a long time. Who knows? Prison might change him.”

Mickey sighed, resting his head in his hands once again.

“I don’t know, Ian. It’s so risky.” He said quietly.

“I know.” Ian said, reaching his hand towards Mickey to rest it on the nape of Mickey’s neck. “But just imagine. Either Cole leaves you alone or he goes to prison. It’s a win win!”

“What if he comes here? When I’m on my own?” Mickey said. It sounded pathetic but it was really the only drawback of the plan. Cole coming with his cronies to beat the shit out of him when he was here on his own – he’d never stand a chance.

“Why don’t you come and stay at mine for a bit, after it’s done? Until this whole thing blows over?” Ian asked, rubbing his thumb over Mickey’s neck soothingly. The brunet sighed, looking at his boyfriend, knowing that his argument was a lost cause. “It’s scary, I know. He’s been such a permanent fixture in your life for so long, but sometimes that can blind you to the fact that he’s a manipulative asshole.”

Mickey nodded, heaving a deep sigh and reaching for the box of cigarettes and his lighter.

“I think Damon would be okay with it.” Mickey said suddenly.

“Really?” Ian asked genuinely.

“Yeah. To tell you the truth I think he’s always suspected something. He used to tease me and say that I liked watching wrestling ‘too much’.” Mickey chuckled at the memory as he lit his smoke. “Plus he had a gay aunt or something. Whole family cut her off but he always used to admit that he felt sorry for her. That it wasn’t her fault. He’d never say that in front of Cole though… We’re just better friends.”

“Okay, that’s good then.” Ian said. “You never know, he may choose you instead of Cole after all. You can fight the power, together!” Ian said dramatically, throwing the hand that wasn’t attached to Mickey’s neck over his heart in a mock salute. “Best friends, sticking it to the man, fighting the system.”

“Shut up.” Mickey said without heat, half-heartedly punching Ian’s leg. The redhead chuckled before sighing.

“Whatever happens, Mick. I’ll be there. That’s a promise.”

Mickey looked into his eyes, and didn’t doubt for a moment that Ian was telling the truth. Apart from his brothers and Mandy, Ian was the person he trusted most in this world and he knew that he wasn’t lying. He would be there, no matter what happened, and he was totally fine with that. He leant into Ian so that the redhead’s arm slid around his shoulders while Mickey’s head rested on Ian’s.

“Your sister won’t mind? Me staying, that is?” He asked.

“Nah, not at all. It isn’t really her house after all, that’s never been a thing, you know what I mean? It’s _our_ house. _All_ us kids'. If we want someone to stay for a while we only have to tell her because of meals and stuff. Obviously she likes to know who she might be walking in on in the bathroom but apart from that she’s cool. It’ll be fun.”

“I know.” Mickey said, stifling a smile at the thought of raucous meals at the Gallaghers’ every day. The warm feeling that family instilled within him was back, and he found himself looking forward to the days, weeks, maybe months he’d be able to spend in the chaotic Gallagher house. The thought of living with Ian didn’t freak him out in the slightest… Maybe if the prospect of being a part of a new family wasn’t there, he would be a little more wary. However, his desires were blinding him to the very possible issues that may arise through living with his boyfriend.

“You haven’t had a family night in a while.” Mickey mused. Ian subconsciously stiffened at the mention of the alias he used when in actual fact he’d been seeing Ned.

“Yeah… Everyone’s just been busy, you know?” Ian said, a little too forced, a little too fast. Judging by Ian’s reaction to the question, Mickey assumed that things might be tough at home for whatever reason, so he didn’t push it. All he could think of was that hopefully he’d be a part of those family nights soon.

Ian was glad that his face was hidden from Mickey in that moment. He’d flushed slightly during his feeble excuse, and the last thing he and Mickey needed was for the brunet to find out about Ned. It was over now. He wasn’t doing it anymore and it would only hurt the brunet, and that was the last thing Ian wanted.

“You want something to eat?” Mickey asked, and Ian let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding.

“What, you gonna make me some toast with peanut butter or some shit? Really gourmet Mickey, you treat me so good.” Ian joked, earning a slap on the chest from his boyfriend.

“We could order pizza or something.” Mickey replied thoughtfully.

“Yeah, pizza sounds good.” Ian said. Mickey groaned as he got to his feet, stretching his arms above his head before walking to the kitchen in search of a menu. “Don’t get fuckin’ ham and pineapple!” Ian called after him.

“I’ll get whatever the hell I want if I’m paying, Gallagher!” Mickey hollered back, and Ian just grinned as he too, got to his feet and made his way to the kitchen, intent on annoying his boyfriend within and inch of his life based upon his weird (and frankly criminal) pizza preferences. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple of chapters are going to be intersting folks...


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late... I know.

“I’ve got some news.” Ian said casually, slotting his fingers through Mickey’s as they lay in Mickey’s bed together, Ian reclined against Mickey’s chest while the brunet’s head rested comfortably atop Ian’s. They fitted together perfectly and Mickey was close to dropping off.

“Hmm? What is it?” Mickey asked sleepily, trying his best to keep his eyes open. When the pair had stumbled into his bedroom it was still light outside, but during the boys’… activities, the sun had gone down. The darkness was lulling him easily into a nap.

“Got a promotion at ROTC… Cadet sergeant” Ian said, adopting an overly pompous tone when stating his new title.

“Sounds fancy.” Mickey said, still trying to stay conscious.

“Yeah. We get a ceremony and everything. It’s in a couple of weeks.” Said the redhead, “We can invite guests.” He continued meaningfully, waiting for Mickey to get the hint. Instead he was answered with a quiet snuffling snore.

Ian rolled his eyes and sat up straight, the movement and loss of contact causing Mickey to wake up suddenly, blinking rapidly and rubbing a hand over his face.

“’m awake!” He said hurriedly while Ian tried to stifle a small smile at the sight of his boyfriend all cute and sleepy.

“Sure you are.” Ian deadpanned, sighing and resuming his position against Mickey’s chest. “So as I was saying before you so rudely decided to take a kip,” Mickey snorted and put a hand lazily through Ian’s hair, “We can bring guests to my ROTC ceremony and I wondered if you wanted to come. All my family are coming so…”

“So it would be me and the Gallagher gaggle without you. How am I gonna survive that?” Mickey joked, earning a scoff and an elbow in the ribs from Ian.

“It’s going to be a nice family outing.” Ian insisted, re-linking his hand with Mickey’s.

“Yeah…” Mickey said, the realisation of what Ian had just said hitting him. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Ian said. “Two weeks, okay?”

“I’ll clear my schedule. It’s very busy, you know.” Mickey said absentmindedly.

“Shut up.” Ian said, laughing all the same.

***

Dinner with the Gallaghers was a rowdy affair as usual, and Mickey was getting more and more used to the loud, happy nature of the dinners he attended. However, although Mickey had been to quite a few of these dinners now, the large family usually left him well alone, engaging him in light conversation or just leaving him to have whispered conversations with Ian. However tonight, it seemed everyone was ready to learn a little more about him.

“So Mickey,” Sean, Fiona’s boyfriend started, and Mickey looked up from his plate of Bolognese, shocked to have been directly addressed. “Who do you live with?”

Fiona slapped him not-so-subtly on the arm, clearly implying that Sean wasn’t meant to have eluded to the fact that they had discussed Mickey’s living situation.

“Um, no one at the moment.” Mickey said, feeling himself reddening as he focussed hard on cutting up his meatballs.

“No one? No parents, siblings?” Sean pushed. Ian was watching Mickey warily, he’d been fine discussing his family with Ian because they were together, but he wasn’t sure how he’d react to someone he didn’t know too well asking such personal questions.

“Well, I usually live with my sister but she’s… away at the moment. My brothers live on the North Side and stop by to give me my allowance like, once a month?” Mickey said, chancing a glance around the table to see everyone watching him shamelessly, seemingly very interested in his life.

“Where’s your sister?” Sean asked, taking a bite of pasta and boldly staring Mickey down, obviously deciding to ignore the fact that Mickey must have skipped over where Mandy was for a reason.

“Juvie.” Mickey said simply, getting very tired of Sean’s imposing questions very quickly.

“Cool.” Carl said, awe evident in his eyes.

“No, not cool.” Mickey said. “I’ve been there man, it ain’t a place you wanna be.”

“Why were you there?” Sean said, and everyone around the table looked at him as though trying to convey that now was a good time to let up unless he had a certified death wish. Mickey dropped his fork and looked Sean in the eye.

“What’s with all the fucking questions?” Mickey said. Ian looked between the two men, biting his lip worriedly. Fiona had much the same expression on her face. Ian was glad her sister had let Mickey’s bad language slide. Now was not a good time to poke the bear.

After an uncomfortable pause, where Sean seemed to be deciding whether to push his luck, Debbie unexpectedly came to Sean’s rescue.

“You’re just so mysterious. We know nothing about you! You’re here half the time and we don’t even know you’re intentions with our brother!”

“What intentions?” Mickey said, giving Debbie a bemused look. “We’re together. That’s blindingly obvious, we’re not exactly subtle, so that clearly isn’t the question you want to ask me.” Ian stifled a small smile and reached for Mickey’s hand under the table.

“Fine.” Debbie said, rolling her eyes having been slated, even if only slightly. Mickey looked around the table, and knew what was coming. Better to get it over with.

“Okay...” he said, leaning back in his chair and mentally preparing himself for the onslaught. “Ask me whatever. I’m ready.”

However the questions that got thrown at him by everyone at the table were far from the dark, shameful questions he’d been expecting. Fiona started, followed promptly by everyone else.

“Beyonce or Lady Gaga?” Fiona leant forward eagerly.

“Queen Bee, every time.”

“Throwing stars or butterfly knife?” Carl asked, a smirk on his face.

“Throwing stars, more fun to practice.”

“Star trek or star wars?” Mickey had to refrain from rolling his eyes at Sean’s dorky question.

“Trek. Although William Shatner is a bit of a dick.”

“Homer or Ovid?” Debbie asked.

“What the fuck?” Mickey replied and Ian laughed. She was not impressed.

“Turkey dinosaurs or chicken nuggets?” Liam shouted.

“Chicken, any time, any place.” Mickey said and Liam giggled.

“Top or bottom?” Lip asked, a smirk to rival Draco Malfoy’s plastered on his face.

“Fuck off.” Mickey said shortly. If he was honest he was surprised Lip hadn’t egged Sean on while the older man was pestering him about his family, and he was sort of grateful. Progress.

“Language!” Fiona said, and Mickey only rolled his eyes in reply. However the proceedings were cut short when Liam decided that he’d had enough of his dinner, deciding instead to chuck his plate at Carl’s head.

***

“So I think you passed.” Ian said, standing in the doorway saying goodnight to Mickey.

“Huh?” He said, turning back to face his boyfriend having been just about to descend the steps in front of the Gallagher house.

“The Gallagher are-you-cool-enough-to-be-family test.” Ian said, grinning as Mickey rolled his eyes, turning red all the same.

“That’s what that was, was it?” He said, walking back to stand in front of Ian.

“Yep. Everyone new has had to do it. Sean failed the first time because he said Iron Man was better than Captain America.”

Mickey laughed and turned back around to leave.

“I’m glad I wasn’t asked that question… I would have failed too.” He grinned manically and raced down the stairs while Ian called after him.

“As if! You can’t be serious!” Mickey just laughed loudly and ran down the street, just hearing Ian’s last call before he rounded the corner. “You’re out of your mind!”

***

“So then I went to his house to confront him and he told me what bullshit Cole had been injecting into his head. It’s a joke, he thinks he can control everyone around him and no one will be any the wiser. Well I know his game, and I’m gonna make Mickey realise too.”

Ian, Jade, Melissa and Craig sat at their usual lunch table in the cafeteria and Ian was venting about his weekend.

“He put up a bit of a fight at first when I confronted him but he saw sense soon enough.” The redhead continued through a mouthful of sandwich, oblivious to the meaningful looks his friends were sharing over his head.

Just then, the man of the moment entered the cafeteria, along with the friends he apparently ‘hated’. The small group, including Ian watched as the gang carried out their usual tirade of abuse against lowly freshmen, Mickey completely ignoring Ian. It was like the redhead didn’t exist.

Ian seemed unfazed, going back to his sandwich and letting Mickey threaten some kid for whatever money they had on them. There was a moment of silence before Melissa imploded.

“You can’t be serious, Ian.” She said, ignoring a warning look from Jade while Craig sank down in plastic seat as far as he could go.

“Huh?” Ian said, swallowing his bite of sandwich and giving her a confused look.

“This is what I mean. You say he’s come around and that he hates Cole and he knows he’s bad news, so why is he _still_ hanging out with him? He treats you like you don’t exist at school and I’m finding it hard to believe that he could truly be this nice, lovely person that you always talk about.” She was breathing heavily but didn’t stop or even pause. It seemed that she’d been wanting to get this out for a while. It was all Ian could do to sit and stare.

“The ‘Mick’ you talk about and the Mickey Milkovich we know are different people, and I don’t think your Mickey exists if I’m honest. I think you like the idea of the Mickey you talk about but in reality it’s very different. It’s a common symptom in abusive relationships – you think your partner is this amazing person when really they’re just manipulating you-“

“Abusive rel- What the fuck are you saying?!” Ian said loudly, interrupting Melissa and forcing her to break off. “I’m not in a fucking abusive relationship? What the fuck? He’s different around me because he’s _scared._ He can’t be who he is here in fear of being beaten up or worse – killed.”

Melissa raised her eyebrows disbelievingly and Ian scoffed, rolling his eyes at the thought of his best friend having so little faith in his strength as a person.

“You just don’t get it.” He said, packing away the remains of his lunch and stowing them in his bag, he stood up but Melissa addressed him again.

“He’s going to hurt you. We all know it-“ She said, gesturing towards the other two who both avoided Ian’s eye and stared at the floor, “And deep down, you know it. At the end of the day, he’s not your type, he’s not a nice person, and you could do better.”

Ian looked at his friends, lost for words.

“So you all feel this way?” He said, pursing his lips and tilting his head, waiting for a response. When he didn’t get one, he scoffed and looked to the ceiling before flipping them the bird and storming away, straight past Mickey who watched him go curiously, having also seen the heated argument go down, but hearing nothing that was said.

Ian was off school grounds when he got Mickey’s text and was glad for it.

**[Mickey – 13:12]  
You okay? What happened?**

There it was. Proof that he was right. Fuck his ‘friends’. Mickey was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and fuck them for trying to ruin that. He sent a quick reply to Mickey, telling him that he was fine and that he had work that evening, so would see him at some point the next day.

The thought of going to Kash at that moment was nauseating, but Fiona had fallen short on the bills for the third month running, so Ian had reluctantly asked for more shifts at the Kash and Grab. Taking a deep breath, Ian slung his bag higher on his shoulder and kept up his fast, angry pace all the way back to the Gallagher house.

***

Mickey walked to the graveyard in high spirits. He hadn’t seen Iggy in a while but he had a lot to update him on. Things had been going so well with Gallagher that he hadn’t felt the insistent need to vent about his shit-storm of a life like he’d used to. He didn’t even have to get drunk to visit his brother anymore, he had smoked a blunt back at the house, but it wasn’t to numb his feelings, it was just for a pleasant buzz. He liked getting high.

The graveyard looked warm and peaceful as the spring sun shone down on it, making the graves cast long shadows in the evening light. It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either and Mickey had opted to leave his coat at home.

He wended his way through the headstones to find his brother’s. When he got there he muttered a quick hello and took up his usual position on the grass with his back against the headstone. Mickey wasted no time in telling him all about what was going on, how Joey and Colin were, how things were going with Gallagher and their plan to get rid of Cole.

“I’m nervous but I know it’s for the best. I want to get the fuck out of this place, and doing good in school is the best way to do that. I know Ian will help me. He gets it. Everyone expects him to do shit as well, just stay in the South Side forever. Not us, though. We’re gonna get out of here.”

He sighed and smiled. At that moment he couldn’t think of anything better than moving away with Ian, going to whatever college he wanted with Ian by his side.

“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching behind him to pat the gravestone, “I’ll come and visit. I’ll need to come back to check on Mandy, anyway. She’s not as easy being on her own. I like it… sometimes, but I don’t think she does. She’s out in four months.” He looked at the ground as he picked at some grass beside him.

“I can’t wait.” He admitted. “I miss her so much. I miss both of you.” He felt the backs of his eyes burning, but no tears fell.

“It’s weird, being with the Gallaghers. They’re loud and rowdy and fun and they remind me of our old family dinners. You know the ones where Terry was in the can and mom was happy? She’d make the best pierogis, and we’d all complain about the borshch but eat it anyway.” He laughed at the memory. “They feel like my family now, the Gallaghers. It’s just sad I can’t have my real family…” He looked at his feet, stretched out in front of him and saw that he was wearing Iggy’s shoes. He would have slaughtered Mickey had he still been around, he smiled at the sentiment.

***

This was it. Tonight was the night. Mickey was going to come out to his friends.

To say the thug was nervous was an understatement. He sat with Ian in the redheads room, alternating between deciding to chicken out and exaggerated anger at Cole for making the task so fucking difficult, giving him renewed motivation to go through with the plan.

Ian sat with him, patiently repeating himself every time Mickey worked himself into a frenzy about the plan. Mickey was going to Cole’s later that evening. Ian had work so he couldn’t be on call, but they’d planned to meet at Mickey’s at around ten so the thug could recount how it went.

“I don’t know if I can do this, you know.” Mickey said, sitting on the edge of Ian’s bed with his head in his hands, breathing heavily and rocking back and forth slightly. Ian sat next to him and rubbed his back as he’d been doing constantly for the past two hours – since Mickey had turned up insisting that he wasn’t going through with the plan.

“It’s too much. I’m not doing it. He’ll kill me. They all will. They’ll gang together and murder me then throw my mangled body under the L.”

“Mickey-“ Ian started, trying not to laugh at Mickey’s embellished prediction of how events were to unfold. However he was interrupted by a loud banging on the wall separating his bedroom from Lip, Liam and Carl’s.

“For fuck sake just fucking do it. Some people are trying to sleep and that’s freaking impossible while trying to drown out your incessant babbling about your internal battle!” Ian rolled his eyes at Lip’s shout, but Mickey was seemingly having none of his shit.

“It’s three in the fucking afternoon!” He yelled back without hesitation.

“I’m on a comedown – fuck off!”

“Maybe I should get high!” Mickey said to Ian after hearing Lip’s shout. “It would probably be easier, confidence and all that shit. Probably let me last longer in a fight, too.”

“No.” Ian said simply, after realising that Mickey was genuinely considering doing some sniff just to get through the evening. When Mickey looked at him angrily he explained himself. “What you say is true, but it goes both ways. We know for a fact you get paranoid on blow, remember when we got high and you couldn’t even get hard because you were worried someone would walk in and catch us going at it?”

Mickey rolled his eyes but knew Ian had a point. The drugs would probably only serve to make him even more nervous than he already was, and he’d definitely drop out.

“Fine.” He said, folding his arms like a sulking child.

“You’re gonna be okay, Mick. Whatever happens, we’ll sort it out. Promise.” Ian said, reaching a hand to curl at the base of the brunet’s neck and run circles with his thumb soothingly.

Mickey leant into the touch slightly, before giving in and letting his whole body slump against Ian’s. In that moment, the thug believed him. He believed Ian when he said everything would be okay. No matter what happened.

***

Ian had left for work at five, which left Mickey to walk home and psych himself up for the night’s events. He was absolutely shitting himself. Every time he blinked he saw what he imagined Cole’s face to look like when he finally revealed the truth. Pure rage and denial. He knew that if Cole wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t miss a beat. Unless he was prepared, it was all going to be over before he could blink.

Mickey paced throughout the house before deciding to grab his switchblade for extra protection. It couldn’t hurt to have it stowed in his sleeve just in case things got ugly. He retrieved it from the loose floorboard under his bed and saw a little baggy of white powder he’d been saving for a special occasion.

He stayed on his knees, staring at the baggy for a full twenty seconds weighing up his options and consequences. For a split second he reached for it before withdrawing his hand as though it had been burned. Ian had said no, and he was right. He’d only freak out.

Taking a deep breath, he replaced the floorboard, got to his feet and directed himself to the kitchen instead. He heaved himself onto the counter and opened the top cabinet, reaching to the very back of it and fishing out the jar of home-brewed moonshine he’d stored there for emergencies. This definitely counted as an emergency.

He looked at his watch and discovered that he had twenty minutes to make it to Cole’s. It took fifteen minutes to walk so he’d better have got a move on. He couldn’t even remember which of his long-gone uncles had made the brew, it was one of the family’s scams once upon a time. Terry had made a nice profit on the stuff, but as Mickey forced down a gulp he didn’t have a clue why. It literally tasted like battery acid.

He gasped for breath but took another gulp for good measure. With that, he left the jar on the counter and made his way to the porch and put on his shoes. He checked his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed. When he was ready to go, he stood in the doorway and looked around the living room.

“It’s been horrible knowing you, house.” He nodded, turned and exited the house for what he genuinely believed may be the last time.

The walk to Cole’s was painful. Every second was torture, every thought a definite and valid reason to turn on his heel and go home, but it was like his feet weren’t listening. Mickey didn’t know if it was to do with the moonshine, but his synapses didn’t seem to be firing properly, and the messages he was sending to his feet to _turn the fuck around_ were getting lost in translation.

Before he knew it he was in front of Cole’s run down house, ready to walk into the lion’s den. He looked to his right, down a street that he knew lead nearer to the centre of the city, a road down which Ian was.

One comforting thing about being here was that Ian was now closer than he had been at the Milkovich house, the Kash and Gran being just a five minute walk down the street. He thought of Ian, and the spectacular life they had ahead of them if he could pull this off. He ran a hand through his dark hair, checked that his switchblade was safely tucked away in his sleeve, took another deep breath and knocked on the door.

***

“Mickey! You made it!” Cole was high. Mickey could tell straight away. Not a factor that pointed in his favour. He forced a grin and reached forward to engage in a quick man-hug. “Come in! The boys are in the other room. We’re watching Harry Potter, Mick. Harry Potter! That shit’s trippy as fuck, you gotta see it.”

Mickey sighed and followed Cole as the bleach blond bounded through the house into the living room where Matt and Damon were sat in a haze of pot smoke, passing a blunt between them while Snape and Harry shouted at each other on the TV.”

“Hey man!” Damon said happily as Mickey took a seat between him and Matt. Mickey prayed that Damon would see it from his point of view – that he would understand. “Sorry, you’ve missed most of it. Half blood prince, you know.” He said, burping as he gestured towards the TV.

“Yeah, we saw it in the cinema, remember? And Jenny Collins was making out with her foreign exchange and we threw popcorn at her.” Mickey said, laughing at the memory.

“Oh my god, yeah! We were so young.” Cole said, taking a sip from a bottle of water that couldn’t have been cold or refreshing in any way. No doubt only serving to lubricate the drip of drugs now sliding down the back of Cole’s throat. Mickey felt shivers run down his spine.

“Shows how long we’ve been friends, right Mick?” Cole continued, rubbing his nose. “We’ll be like these lot – just you wait and see.” He gestured towards the TV again, which now showed some emotional scene between the three main characters. “Friends for life.”

Mickey bit his lip and considered Cole’s words. Now that he was here, there was no turning back. He had to do it. Cole’s statement that they’d be friends for life could be interpreted as one of two things.

One – He’ll accept Mickey’s coming out on the basis that they’d been friends forever and that he didn’t want to lose him.

Two – He’ll see Mickey’s coming out as a betrayal of epic proportions and promptly kill him on the spot.

As Mickey watched Cole, thinking about the no doubt obscene amount of mind-altering drugs running through the blond’s system, each possibility seemed equally as likely as the other. He was going to do it. He was going to do it now.

The movie ended, the classic soundtrack of Harry Potter filling the room while the boys sat in silence. Mickey opened his mouth to finally spit out what he’d been so nervous about since Ian had suggested the plan, but Cole beat him to it.

“We haven’t been spending much time together recently, boys.” He said thoughtfully, taking another sip on the lukewarm water and rubbing his nose with a tattooed hand. Mickey almost groaned at the interruption. He had been so ready. “It has to change.”

All the boys nodded half-heartedly, still numbly playing attention to the credits rolling on the screen.

“Come on guys, I’m serious!” Cole said, reaching for the TV controls and switching the movie off, leaving the four boys in a silence that Mickey found oddly ominous. “Let’s do something fun. Something we haven’t done in ages.”

Still, everyone remained silent, waiting for Cole to either come up with a plan, talk himself into a frenzy or forget about it all together. Tinny reggae suddenly filled the room and everyone turned to Matt who had turned the music on through his phone.

“Too quiet.” He said simply, in reply to the other boys’ unasked question.

“Reggae, man? Seriously?” Damon asked, smirking.

“It’s dope to listen to when you’re baked.” Cole supplied for Matt, nodding his head randomly to a beat that didn’t match the one coming out of the tiny speakers.

“Nah, it’s gay as fuck.” Damon said, crossing his arms as his smirk grew wider watching Cole attempt to keep the beat. However Cole suddenly stopped, an unnerving light finding his eyes.

“I know what we haven’t done in ages.” Cole said, grinning at his friends. “Something we all enjoy immensely.”

“What is it?” Damon asked. Cole seemed to be talking to himself.

“Always fun to put a faggot in his place.” He whispered, staring wide-eyed at his hands, seemingly examining his tattoos with great interest, like he’d never seen them before.

Mickey’s heart dropped.

“You know who I heard is gay…” Matt said, looking at Mickey carefully, who was still too busy watching Cole to notice. “Gallagher. You know, Ian.”

Cole’s eyes snapped to Matt.

“The one who’s tutoring you?” Cole asked Mickey, his tone accusatory.

“I didn’t know.” Mickey said, faux-casually while his insides turned to ice within him.

“Really?” Cole said, leaning forward in his chair, fixing Mickey with a piercing glare.

“Nah, didn’t know a thing. He’s never made a move on me, but maybe he knows that if he did he’d be dead.” Mickey said, keeping eye contact with Cole who seemed mollified.

“Heard he’s got some ceremony coming up for his faggy army shit. My sister’s boyfriend does it and he has to go too.” Matt said, calmly rolling a joint while Mickey’s heart and brain were going crazy within him.

“When is it?” Cole said with interest, rubbing his nose yet again.

“Two weeks? We can do it then.” Matt said, his dark tone making Mickey’s heart plummet.

“It’s a plan, boys!” Cole said, clapping his hands together and grinning. His eyes turned dark as he continued. “That queer won’t know what’s fucking hit him.”

Damon was looking at Mickey but his friend was too panicked to notice.

“You in?” Cole asked them. Matt and Damon nodded, the latter rather hesitant while Mickey stayed silent an unmoving.

“I said,” Cole repeated, leaning even further forward towards Mickey, “Are you in?”

“What? Yeah!” Mickey said hurriedly. He heard Damon let out a sigh of relief next to him. “Sorry, totally blanked. Man I am so high!” He said, pretending to release a giggle. Cole hesitated before laughing along with him.   
  
“Knew you had it in you.” Cole said, leaning back in his chair and lighting a cigarette.

***

An hour. That’s how long Mickey lasted before he had to get out. He had to get some fresh air. He had to breathe.

He took out his phone as if he’d just received a text and sighed in fake-annoyance.

“Ah man, my brothers are home. Just texted me.” The three boys looked around at him. “Gotta go home and get my money for the month.”

“Oh how hard your life is, running home to get your wad of cash.” Damon said jokingly as Mickey got to his feet and climbed over Damon’s outstretched legs to reach the door.

“See ya, Mick!” Cole called, and it was all Mickey could do to mutter a quick bye before he was stumbling out of the door onto the street. He leant forward, hands braced on his knees and took a couple of heaving breaths. He knew what he needed to do.

He knew where Ian was, his shift at the shop was only half done, he could go to him now. Without hesitation Mickey set off down the street, running as fast as he could towards the Kash and Grab. He needed to tell Ian, he needed to warn him, to protect him.

Things were just starting to go right with the redhead, no one could ruin that now, he wouldn’t let them. Breathing started to become painful as he sprinted down the streets and side alleys towards the corner shop but he didn’t stop, and he didn’t slow down. He needed to get to Ian, now.

He’d know what to do. He’d fix this. He knew it.

He almost skidded to a halt when he came face to face with the grubby little corner shop and didn’t skip a beat before he pushed open the door.

The shop was empty, which he found odd. He knew that Ian worked behind the counter, and yet the space was empty. He craned his neck around the store but came up empty. He wandered over to the shelves and passed a metal door, which he realised must lead to the storeroom and sure enough, he could just see the top of his boyfriend’s head through the tiny window.

Mickey reached for the handle, opened the door to the storeroom, and saw Ian.

Mickey never would have guessed that seeing Ian would have made his heart drop ten times faster than anything Cole had said that night, but it did.

Ian was stood behind a man, fucking into him hard and fast, making the unknown man beneath him make obscene noises, noises that Ian was supposed to make Mickey make. He was holding the man the way he should be holding Mickey, biting his lip the way that Mickey knew he did when he was with him.

“What the _fuck_ is this?!” Mickey roared. Ian’s eyes widened as he looked around at Mickey, finally realising that he and Kash were not alone. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, a day early! 
> 
> This chapter was horrible to write and I feel like that may have gotten in the way of the quality of writing in this chapter, but it may just be me being paranoid...

“Wait, Mickey I can explain!” Ian said hurriedly, zipping up his flies and Mickey walked away from the storeroom door. Time was moving extremely slowly, and Mickey felt as though he was walking away from Ian in slow motion, unfortunately giving the redhead the time to catch up to him. Mickey felt Ian’s hand grasp his arm and he wrenched it out of his grip, turning to face him with a look of pure disgust on his face.

“ _Explain_? Explain what, Ian? How you’ve been cheating on me with- with your fucking _boss_?” Mickey gestured to Kash who was standing behind Ian, clearly confused by the whole conversation.

“Who is this?” Kash asked Ian, gesturing to Mickey in turn and earning a glare of death from the Milkovich.

“He’s asking who _I_ am?!” Mickey yelled, and Ian was suddenly looking extremely sheepish. It didn’t take long for Mickey to figure out what was going on. “How long?” He asked, letting his hand fall to his side and looking at the floor.

“It was… It was before but I swear Mickey, I was gonna end-“

“Before what? Before we met? Or before I basically told you in words of _one syllable_ that I wasn’t fucking anyone else? Or before you told me you loved me?” Mickey could see the tears in Ian’s eyes but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t know the person standing in front of him.

“Man, fuck this.” Kash said, turning on his heel and stalking out of the back door of the store. Mickey wanted to kill the man but he also wished he hadn’t left, because now he was just left with Ian. Ian who had fucking cheated on his for all this time, who’d taken him for a mug, who’d lied to his face and made countless empty promises that Mickey had been stupid enough to believe.

“Mickey…” Ian said lamely, as though searching for words but was clearly coming up blank.

“What, Gallagher? Wanna explain to me how you could have lied to me all this time? How you could have told me you loved me and-“

“I do!” Ian said, making Mickey stop in his tracks. “I do love you Mickey, I swear to fucking God I do. It’s so complicated, you know my family has shit-all money and-“

“So you’re family’s poor, yeah that explains why you’re fucking someone else.” He scoffed. “Just fuck off, Ian.” Mickey turned away but Ian grabbed his arm again, forcing him to turn back but Mickey had had enough. He got up in the redhead’s face, daring him to touch him again.

“We went bareback! And you’ve been fucking him this whole time! I told you I fucking loved you. Do you know how many people other than Mandy I’ve told that to? No one. Not fucking one, Ian.” He was getting upset, he could feel it. He tried to keep the tears at bay but the thought of how far he’d let Ian into his life got the better of him.

“I fucking told you about Iggy, man.” His eyes brimmed with tears as one fell down Ian’s cheek. At least he didn’t have the indecency to try to stand up for himself this time. “I _trusted_ you with shit I’ve never told _anyone_ , and you just shoved it back in my fucking face. All this time… For all this fucking time.” He said, backing away from Ian as the redhead looked at the floor, the tears silently falling. A painful silence settled between them as the realisation of what had just happened hit Mickey in full force.

“Who even are you?” He asked quietly, and Ian looked up to see Mickey’s expression of true bafflement, of hurt and betrayal, and he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. “I don’t recognise you at all.”

“Don’t say that.” Ian pleaded, sniffing as the tears continued to fall.

“How the fuck can you ask me not to? How do I know what other shit you’ve been lying about? Is there anything else you need to _tell_ me?” He asked, fully expecting Ian to object and convince him somehow that everything was going to be okay. He was wrong.

Ian looked at the floor and shuffled his feet slightly, while the floor seemed to disappear from underneath Mickey’s feet.

“There was someone else- but I ended it Mickey, I swear.” Mickey just scoffed, giving Ian a last look of disgust before exiting the shop, only to have the other boy race after him. “Mickey I- please. I realised how much I loved you and- and I ended it! Nothing compared to what I felt for you.” Mickey stopped in the near-deserted street to face Ian once more.

“Fuck _off_ , Gallagher.” He said, shoving Ian’s chest. “If you ‘ _loved’_ me you wouldn’t have done this. I mean, if you’re fucking your boss how fuckin’ old was the other one? Sixty?” He said it in a sarcastic manner, but once again, Ian looked away to the right and Mickey’s jaw actually dropped in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me!” He shouted, making Ian wince.

“With Kash- it was blackmail! I had to do it to keep my job, you gotta believe me!” He said desperately, and Mickey snorted at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, the ridiculousness of his own stupid actions.

“Okay, say I do believe you. What about grandpa? Was _he_ blackmailing you into chocking on his pubes?” Ian opened his mouth to speak, before shutting it. Mickey let out a humourless laugh as he felt tears burn the backs of his eyes.

“Was this all just a joke to you?” Ian looked confused at his words. “Yeah that’s right, let’s turn Mickey Milkovich into a fairy fag then laugh at him when he _actually_ develops feelings! What a great fucking idea! You just can’t help yourself, can you? You suck all the dick you can, I mean it’s easy enough to get it if you put yourself out there like you seem to do. I mean, if you can get it, why not? I just can’t believe I didn’t realise it sooner.”

“Realise what sooner?” Ian said, starting to get slightly annoyed.

“That all you are is a fucking twink who likes to fuck with guys like me. Guys who don’t know any fucking better.”

Ian had known he was in the wrong but his fight or flight complex had come into play. He’d tried apologising. He knew what he’d done was wrong, but he was still indignant to the fact that Mickey was assuming this had all been a joke to him, and that he was referring to him like he was some kind of slut.

“It wasn’t a fucking joke.” Ian said, making Mickey scoff once more. “But of course _you_ would think that. Mickey ‘the-world’s-out-to-get-me’ Milkovich. This isn’t even that big of a deal.”

He knew what he was saying was bullshit but Mickey was going too far. Ian knew he was about to return the favour, that what he was going to say wouldn’t win him any points with the thug but in that moment he just didn’t care.

“You probably wouldn’t even give a shit if I hadn’t introduced you to my family or any of that shit. You said it yourself.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Mickey asked genuinely confused.

“Oh come on, Mickey. Let’s not pretend that you’re not about as obsessed with my family as you are with me. You were so eager to find a loud, rowdy family like yours used to be that you latched onto me like a leech, subconsciously willing me to accept you into mine.”

“Don’t act like you know a fucking thing about my family.” Mickey said, pointing at Ian. How could he have the audacity to be insulting Mickey now?

“Well I’m just saying! We probably wouldn’t be in this position if you didn’t get so… so-“

“So what?!” Mickey yelled.

“So attached!” Ian shouted back. The redhead was regretting every fucking word that was coming out of his mouth but he couldn’t stop.

“You wanna talk about subconscious issues, Gallagher?” Mickey said, advancing on Ian and getting in his face once again. “Let’s talk about the _insane_ daddy issues that are leading you to fuck men twice your fucking age! I don’t know what the fuck is going on there or what fucked up complex you have going on but you cannot lecture me on that shit when you’re just as batshit crazy as me.”

Ian was breathing heavily, Mickey could feel it on his face.

“Yeah, Ian. I liked being around your family but I would have given that up in a fucking _second_ if you felt uncomfortable. I would have given up everything for you. Hell, I was going to come out to my friends, at the risk of _literally_ being killed. For you. So don’t fucking tell me that I’m too fucking ‘ _attached_ ’. I loved you.” His voice cracked as the tears brimmed in his eyes again. “I fucking loved you and you’ve… You’ve thrown it all away.”

Ian bit his lip as his he willed his body not to rack with sobs. With Mickey’s face that close to his, he could see the tears clinging to the shorter boy’s eyelashes. He could see the anger and hurt in his eyes, the true look of resignation, of despair.

Mickey stepped back, sniffed once, rubbed his nose and turned away. Ian let out a breath which rapidly turned into a sob. He watched Mickey walk away and knew that he’d just made one of the biggest mistakes he’d ever made in his life. In a Hail Mary attempt to bring Mickey around he jogged the couple of steps Mickey had taken and grabbed his arm, swinging him around and planting his lips onto Mickey’s, only to be shoved off a second later.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Gallagher!” Mickey shouted, making Ian stop dead in his tracks and leaving the taller boy with no choice but to stand idly by and watch him walk away. So that’s what he did. He stood still as Mickey got further and further away from him, the street lights the only thing illuminating him until he disappeared into the darkness completely. He never looked back.

Once he was out of sight, Ian let out a sob which was followed by another, and another until tears were completely clouding his vision and it was all he could do to walk backwards until his backbone hit the nearest wall. He slid down it until his was sat in the floor, his head in his hands.

Ian didn’t know how long he sat there for, maybe hours. All he knew was that he was seemingly out of tears, leaving him only with thoughts of what a horrible person he really was. A few people had walked past him, but payed no attention. Probably taking him for either a junkie or a crazy homeless person. Either way, better to keep your distance.

He looked up, finding himself alone in the street. The streetlights lit up patches of road around him in an eerie orange light and he was immediately transported back to the aftermath of he and Mickey’s fist fuck. They’d sat on the floor in Mickey’s rapidly darkening living room until the streetlights outside and their cigarettes were the only source of light.

He used to think that orange would always remind him of that moment, where he’d felt scared but excited, happy but cautious. Now he guessed that all it would remind him of were stupid mistakes and ‘the one that got away’ so to speak.

He thought he was out of tears but at the thought of Mickey having that label for the rest of Ian’s life forced him to find what little water remained in his tear ducts to cause one last bout of crying. He just let them roll, silently accepting that he was the stupidest person on the planet.

***

“So he cheated on me.”

Mickey was sat, cigarette in one hand, bottle of jack in the other, back leant against Iggy’s grave.

“Can you fucking believe that?”

Ian wasn’t who he’d thought he was. How had he fallen for it? He thought of Ian’s face, and literally felt bile rise in his throat. He’d always known that Ian had issues, how could you not with dead parents and inattentive siblings?

“Fuckin’ dickhead.” He slurred.

He knew what it must be like for Ian. He used to be in a similar position to Ian in regards to family. Not the oldest, not the youngest, just kind of… there. He’d never gotten paid attention to, and everything seemed to just pass over you. He understood that, but it didn’t make anything Ian had done any better.

“I did everything for him. Everything he wanted me to. I was going to come out to fucking Cole… I can’t believe I was going to do that.”

He’d done his fair share of sleeping around, fucking girls at school to uphold the façade that he was straight and Ian was right, that part wasn’t that big of a deal. Obviously, it hurt to see Ian with that man, Kish or whatever his name was, and it hurt to think about him with some geriatric viagroid but it had been the lies. The deception that had sent Mickey crazy.

He knew he shouldn’t have said some of the things he’d said to Ian, he knew that. He knew that he’d acted out in the heat of the moment but he never thought Ian would ever have done anything like that. Let alone with _two_ people, effectively screwing Mickey over _twice_.

If the redhead had told him about it, maybe he would have been able to deal with it. Christ, Ian had done a miracle job putting up with Mickey and his many insecurities and issues, but he’d lied. And he’d cheated and he’d fucked Mickey over.

He took another swig from the bottle, ignoring the fact that it no longer burned as it travelled down his throat, meaning his eyes burning wasn’t the effect of the alcohol.

No, he’d had yet to cry, and he wasn’t going to. Despite the fact that Ian was nowhere near the person he thought he’d been, or that his betrayal had proved Mickey’s worst fear – that he was utterly alone.

Iggy was gone, Mandy still had four months in juvie and his brothers were elusive ninety percent of the time and now he’d lost Ian. He could feel the tears about to fall. He sniffed, searching his pockets and willing himself not to be taken over by the floods of emotions that were running through his head and his heart.

Once he’d found what he was looking for he dragged the lighter out of his pocket. He extracted a smoke from the pack laying beside him, put it in his mouth and brought the lighter up to meet it. He flicked it three times to no avail, by which time he was starting to fear the worst.

He could see the tiny caricature of the naked woman on the lighter and felt his breathing become shorter. _Please_ , he thought, _please not now_. He sat for five minutes, willing the lighter to ignite, somehow convincing himself that it was a sign of hope if the tiny flame would just appear.

He felt a dull pain spread through his thumb and found that his thumb had started bleeding from the rough contact of the roller. His breath had become uneven and he spat out the unlit cigarette and let out a yell of frustration and anger, throwing the empty bottle of jack at the fence a couple of yards away and hearing it smash satisfyingly.

He was on the verge of a panic attack similar to the one he’d had when Terry had called him from prison, except Ian wasn’t there to calm him down, no one was there. He put a hand on his chest as it seemed to become restricted under his touch. He couldn’t breathe and his vision was clouding. He tried holding his breath, only for it to be let out in a great exhale of air leaving him a panting, sweating mess.

That fucking lighter had lasted him years. It was something he’d always thought was magical in some way – a normal lighter that somehow never ran out. It was just typical that now, at one of the hardest times in his life other than Iggy’s passing, it had to run out. Its failure made everything seem so hopeless, so final as if now were the end of an era.

He’d thought it was a sign off hope, but now he thought it was a sign that he and Gallagher were just never meant to be.

***

Ian stumbled up the short flight of stairs outside the house, willing her to be there, ready to listen despite the late hour.

It’d taken him an hour to walk from the Kash and Grab to the other side of the city. He thought his feet must hurt, but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything. Tear tracks stained his face. He must have looked an absolute mess but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed his best friend.

He knocked three times on the door and waited patiently for an answer.

“Hey!” When Jade saw it was Ian she smiled, before the light truly hit him, at which point she gasped, putting a hand over her mouth in shock. “Ian? Ian what happened?!”

“He um… He found out.” He said shortly, looking at the floor as he twisted his hands, unlocking and interlocking them.

“Who found out what, Ian?” Jade said, watching Ian warily with eyes full of concern. Ian sniffed loudly and looked up, biting his lip as he welled up.

“Mickey… He- he found out about Kash and N-Ned and now he fucking hates me and I think it’s over. For good this time.” Ian took a deep breath as Jade gave a great sigh of sympathy.

“Oh, Ian. Come here.” She said, tugging at his shirt and bringing him to her. He buried his head in her shoulder and took deep breath after deep breath, calming somewhat at the thought that at least he could count on Jade.

Ten minutes later Ian was lying on Jade’s bed, his head in her lap and a plate of lasagna on his chest as she ran her hand through his hair.

“And he just walked right in. I didn’t even notice he was there, God knows how long he was there! It would have fucking killed me to see him with someone else… and he’s just found out that I’ve been with two!”

“Two…?” Jade asked carefully, and Ian’s heart plummeted at the realisation that he’d never told Jade about Ned.

“There was someone else.” He said, simply wanting to get everything off his chest. “A guy I met in a club in Boystown. Ned.”

“Okay,” she said calmly. “How many times did you guys get together?”

“Um…” Ian said, quickly shoving a forkful of lasagna in his mouth, managing to get some on his cheek due to the strange angle. “Lost count?” He said through a mouthful of mince, and Jade rolled her eyes. Ian groaned.

“I know. I know it’s bad. What’s worse is…” He trailed off in hope that Jade hadn’t heard him but alas.

“What?” She prompted, however when Ian remained mum she decided he was clearly in need for some TLC. “Look. Whatever stupid shit you’ve done, I’ll judge you another time. For now I want you to feel as though you can tell me anything. Because you can. I can see how hurt you are, Ian. And I know that no matter what you’ve done, you love Mickey. Nothing you can say will convince me otherwise. Melissa thinks all of this is just a phase, but I’ve gotten to know Mickey a tiny bit better in the short time we’ve been lab partners and I think you really do care about each other… And I’m on board.”

Ian smiled up at her, knowing that she was telling the truth, so he took a deep breath and told her.

“He was like… fifty eight or something. I don’t actually know his exact age, or where he lives… Probably should have seen that as a bad sign sooner, but yeah. That’s it really.” He avoided her eye, shovelling more lasagna in his mouth while she worked out what to say next.

“Well-“

“I know. I know it was dumb and naïve and I never should have believed that he felt anything for me and I can’t believe I did but I ended it! I ended it weeks ago but he doesn’t care! He just won’t hear it from my point of view. I broke up with Ned, granted, a little later than I should of but I still did it! And with Kash… Fucking Kash I swear to God, he was fucking blackmailing me! I couldn’t lose my job, Fiona’s having enough trouble already paying the bills so imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t working? I would be even more useless than I already am and- and wait! Hold on a minute… Fuck! My first fucking final is next week!”

“You can’t stress about that now,” Jade said immediately. “You’re worked up enough already, it would make no sense to worry about something you’re going to ace anyway when you’re this keyed up.”

“I know I’ll ace it.” Ian said, so Jade was left confused by the panicked look on Ian’s face. She nudged him, waiting for him to elaborate. “It’s Mickey! I asked him the other day if he’s ready and he said that he thought so but he was really nervous. Now pair that with the fact that the only reason he’s doing it is to get me my credits to get into West Point. He’s never going to fucking turn up and I won’t get my credits and I’ll never get out of this fucking city. But I suppose I deserve it, I don’t know if I’d turn up if the tables were turned.”

Ian let out a great huff of frustration and Jade sighed, still running her hand soothingly through Ian’s red locks. They were silent for a minute while Jade thought things over.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t believe that he’s doing this for you. Not to sound harsh, Ian, but you’re not the centre of his universe. We both know that Mickey wants to get out of this city as much as you do, and I think that’ll motivate him to follow through with the exams. He’s so close now. He’s put in the effort, I know he has and I have faith in him to make the right decision and turn up. I also believe he still cares about you, and that you can get through this.”

Ian sighed, closing his eyes and running his hands over his face.

“I don’t know, Jade. I said some really fucked up things. I told him that he was too attached to my family and basically that he was some orphan freak who I wanted out of my life, which is completely the opposite of what I feel but he doesn’t fucking know that, does he?”

“Why would you say that?!” Jade asked incredulously, and Ian groaned again.

“I don’t fucking know! In my defence he had just told me that I was basically some man-slut who drapes myself over men to get my rocks off just because I can.”

There was an awkward moment of silence where Jade said nothing to defend Ian’s virtue, and the redhead gasped and hit her around the head with a pillow. They both giggled which soon cascaded into fits of laughter. It was short lived however, when Ian realised the shit-storm he’d got himself into.

“For fuck sake, how the fuck could I have let this happen? How am I going to fix this?”

“With a lot of hard work and grovelling.” Jade said, hiccupping after their bout of laughter.

“I hate myself.” Ian said, and Jade felt her heart break a little bit. She bent over and kissed Ian on the nose, making him giggle before lifting his head off her lap so that she could lie down next to him, making him lay his head on her chest.

“You’re going to sleep here tonight, we’re going to re-watch season one of Buffy, eat a shit load of chocolate and popcorn and I’m going to cuddle the shit out of you so I hope you’re ready.”

“I’m so ready.” Ian said, thinking that he might be able to forget about this whole ordeal until the morning. “Except we’re watching season two.”

“Ew no, why?” She said. He could feel the vibrations of her voice through her chest, it felt weird but he liked it.

“Because Spike comes in season two episode three.”

“You and fucking Spike, Jesus.” She said, and Ian could almost feel her roll her eyes.

“I am in love with him.” Ian stated, making her chuckle.

“Fine. We’ll watch season two so I can observe you’re fucking weird obsession over James Marsters and his shitty accent.” She said, reaching behind her to retrieve the controls to the TV in her room from her nightstand.

“Please, that accent gets better. By season six it’s hot as hell.”

“You’ve clearly never heard a real British accent, honey.” She said, turning on the TV before getting up to put the right disc into the DVD player.

“Um, I’ve listened to Ed Sheeran’s music.” Ian said, as though that ended all discussion.

“Wow, you really are an indie kid! How I can keep up with your alternative taste shocks me every day!”

“Fuck off.” Ian laughed, used to Jade teasing him about his typical top forty favourites.

Being with Jade made things better. She was always there to listen, always there to calm him down and make him forget about his problems, but still be there in the morning to help him sort through them. She truly was his best friend.

He couldn’t help but wonder where Mickey was. If he had gone back to his friends or called his brothers, or if he had anyone really. He found himself hoping and wishing the thug had someone to talk the night’s events through with – someone to talk some sense into him. Someone to listen to him and tell him everything would be okay. He really hoped that was the case.

***

It wasn’t.

At that very point in time, Mickey was in the same place he had been four hours ago, only with a replenished bottle of alcohol and the cheapest lighter he could find. Iggy listened to him, let him get his rage and frustration out through shouting and throwing shit, but did he convince him to act rationally? Did he tell him everything was going to be okay? Not exactly.

“He’s a fucking dick.” Mickey slurred. “Can’t believe he’d do this to me. I- I told him I _loved_ him. I… I _do_ love him. I love him but I don’t wanna, you know what I mean?” He wasn’t expecting a reply but he asked anyway. “Why does he make me love him when he’s gonna be a shit? People who love people aren’t shits to them.”

He took a swig from his bottle for what seemed like the billionth time.

“Why’d I ever care? Why’d I ever think that this whole thing was a good idea? It was him. Him and his fuckin’ red hair, freckles and shit, fuckin’ alien looking motherfucker…” He lit a cigarette, ignoring a young woman who was obviously taking a short-cut through the graveyard and looking at him as though he was truly deranged.

“Why’s life gotta be a shit?” He asked, leaning his head back against the grave and closing his eyes. “Why did he have to be a shit? The _one time_ I actually give a fuck.” He took a deep breath, watching the mixture of condensation and cigarette smoke swirl and curl away from him.

“Gotta stop caring. S’what I gotta do. The one time I give a fuck, so I ain’t gonna give a fuck anymore.” He groped around in his pocket for a good three minuted before he found his phone.

He unlocked it, the brightness of the device temporarily blinding him. When he got his bearings he opened the message icon and typed a sloppy message.

Now if Iggy had really been there, sitting beside him he would have told him that what he was about to do was a fucking stupid idea, no matter how drunk he was. If Mandy had been there, she would smack him around the head and tell him he was being an idiot, but Mickey didn’t have anyone.

He didn’t have a Fiona, he didn’t have a Jade, he didn’t only have an annoying-ass Melissa, no. He had a friend who was too scared to stand up for him, two friends who would gladly kill him should he ever reveal his sexuality, a dead brother and a sister in lock-up.

In short, he didn’t have anyone to ward him off making bad decisions. No one to guide him through life and teach him how to fucking deal with this shit. Only him. It was always going to be only him. He’d come to accept that if he cared – he was screwed. So he sent the text.

Deep down, he knew he was making a mistake. Deep down, he knew he was being a pussy. But deep down he was also fucking angry. And angry, drunk people never make good choices, not even if the person they’re about to hurt is someone they’ve loved more than anyone else in the world.

**[Cole – 00:58]  
Go head with fagbashing Gallger. He’s a dicj anyway. I’m in. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I know. I am so sorry. 
> 
> P.S. Fun fact, I based Jade off of my real life best friend. She doesn't look anything like Jade's description but her personality is very similar and I love her to the moon and back. She's been there for me through thick and thin and I can trust her with anything. I hope you all have a friend like Jade, it's literally a blessing. 
> 
> Feel free to take your frustration at this fic out on me in the comments! ;) just don't hate me x


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am finally here with an update. I cannot apologise enough that this took so long, but exams must take priority. I hope you enjoy this one! Comments and kudos welcome :) X

When Mickey awoke the night after he’s caught Ian with Kash, he had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’d done something stupid. He blinked his eyes open to find that he’d passed out on the sofa, empty beer cans and cigarette butts littered around him like confetti.

He rubbed his nose tiredly only to find it and his knuckles burning slightly, meaning he’d dug into his emergency stash of coke _and_ managed to beat someone up. He groaned at the realisation. He had no idea who the fuck he’d beaten up, but just couldn’t bring himself to care. However he just knew that the drugs or the bloody knuckles weren’t the cause of the uneasy feeling, and he took a careful look around the house to see if anything was broken or severely damaged.

When everything seemed in order, he sighed, accepting that he must just be on a fucker of a come-down. He picked up his phone, thinking of calling his brothers to see if they were around. He felt the understandable urge to be around family given the state he was in.

He unlocked it, finding a joyous text from Cole, which he found odd seeing as he had no recollection of contacting the blond whatsoever. However when he opened their thread of conversation and saw the text that his addled mind had thought would have been a good idea to send the previous night, his heart dropped.

He guessed he now knew the reason why he’d felt as if he’d been an idiot… Because he had been. He’d been an absolute fucking idiot, and there was no going back now.

***

Ian walked to work from Jade’s house to work, his eyes still red and puffy from crying. The cold air on his cheeks was a somewhat nice relief from the many hot tears which had rolled down them over the past twelve hours.

A part of him had expected Mickey to call, even text to say that he was sorry, and that he hadn’t meant anything he’d said the previous night and that he wanted them to go back to the way they were. But he hadn’t, and he knew he didn’t deserve it.

The good thing about having a friend like Jade was that she wouldn’t unconditionally take his side. She would always be there for him, but that didn’t necessarily mean she would agree with his actions. And boy, she sure didn’t agree with his actions.

After he’d explained everything, and she thought he was ready to hear some constructive criticism, they had sat up for hours while Jade analysed his actions and what they could do to fix them, while definitely not missing the chance to belittle Ian for being an idiot. But he didn’t mind. He deserved it.

They’d come to the joint conclusion that no matter what, Ian should wait for Mickey to come to him. If Ian really loved Mickey (which he assured Jade, he did), he would wait however long it took for Mickey to forgive him, and Ian planned to do just that.  
As frustrating as Ian knew it would be, he was in the wrong. So he drew himself the short straw of things continuing on Mickey’s terms. And he was fine with that, he just hoped more than anything that Mickey would cave sooner rather than later, because he didn’t know how long he could deal with Mickey hating him.

Before he knew it he was in front of the Kash and Grab, unlocking the door and pushing his way inside. He was met with Kash’s back as the older man stocked cans of soup on the shelf opposite the door. Ian hesitated, wondering if he should say anything at all.

“Um… Hi.” He said, standing awkwardly on the spot.

Kash turned around and Ian’s eyes widened in shock. The whole right side of Kash’s face was bruised and bloody, a thin cut resting atop his eyebrow was still leaking blood. His eye was severely swollen and he had a cut lip.

“What happened?!” Ian asked. He was shocked, but made no move to go to Kash’s aid.

“What the fuck do you think happened? You’re little thug came by as I was closing up after your little argument and fucking jumped me!” Ian stifled a gasp as Kash continued. “He was crazy, fucked outta his mind. Just yelling random words at me but it was fuckin’ obvious that it was about you. I’m pressing charges.”

Ian’s eyes widened once more at the thought of Mickey being arrested.

“No! No please, don’t. Just- just go to the hospital and get patched up and- and dock the fees from my pay. I don’t care, just don’t press charges.” Ian pleaded desperately, giving Kash the puppy-dog eyes which had worked so many times before. A smirk spread across Kash’s face as he watched Ian squirm.

“Fine.” Kash said, and Ian’s body flooded with relief. It was short-lived. “Either I fire you, or I press charges.”

“What?” Ian asked, genuinely confused by what Kash was saying.

“Either I fire you,” Kash said as he took a few slow steps towards Ian, it took all the redhead’s muster to stand firm. “Or I press charges. It’s up to you.”

Ian’s heart dropped as he realised the devastating results each option of the ultimatum would have on his life.

If he let Kash press charges then Mickey would certainly get arrested for GBH, putting Mickey in jail and leaving Ian without him which was an option he didn’t really want to consider, but faced with the alternative he had to. If he let Kash fire him, his family would lose one of the only reliable and essential sources of income they had.

Kash’s smirk was getting wider as Ian mentally weighed up each option, but the logical answer never came. _Jade, where the fuck are you?_ He thought fruitlessly, but he knew what she would say. Deep down, he knew the option she would advise him to pick, so naturally, he picked the opposite of what he knew her advice would be.

He looked Kash in the eye, straightened up to his full height and fixed his boss with the most disdainful look he could muster.

“I want fucking severance.”

***

Ian was fucking dreading telling Fiona about his situation, he didn’t know whether to lie to make it seem like a more reasonable reason to get fired, or if he would be able to appeal to her more romantic side. Either way, he knew he was fucked.

There was a large possibility that Mickey would never speak to him again, and if he didn’t Ian would have just slid his family even further below the poverty line in the name of a now unrequited love. He wouldn’t say he regretted his decision, but he sure as hell knew it might not have been the best whim to act upon.

He rang Jade, and told her everything that had happened and he had been right. Her advice was certainly the opposite to what he did. She was appalled at the fact that he’d sacrificed his living on Mickey. She said she understood his desperation in regards to his relationship with Mickey but he still needed to think and act logically. Ian was glad she couldn’t see him rolling his eyes.

“ _How do you know he’ll keep his word?”_ She said in an extremely worried tone.

“What do you mean?” Ian asked, taking minuscule steps as he trudged his way home, delaying his arrival at the Gallagher house as long as possible.

“ _What if he still presses charges, even though he said he wouldn’t?”_

“Because he knows I’ll kill him if he did.” Ian said in a surprisingly low and menacing voice. It had the opposite of the desired effect on his best friend.

“ _Ian!”_ She giggled, though she was trying her hardest to disguise her chuckles.

“I would!” Ian said, chuckling at her blatant disbelief in his hitherto unseen murderous tendencies. “I’m not Mickey, but I’m still South Side. I can whack someone who needs to be whacked.” He said defiantly.

“ _Yeah, you tell them babe. Chat shit get banged!”_ she said before letting out a great snort of laughter and positively howling for a good minute before she took some calming breaths and continued. “ _Just_ _let_ _me know if you’re going to_ _have to murder_ _him so I can let my Dad_ _know that his services will_ _be_ _needed_.”

“Will do.” Ian said, slowly approaching his house, only to hear loud shouts floating from the building towards him. “Hey I gotta go, someone’s yelling in my house.”

“ _More than usual?”_ Jade said, still recovering from her laughing fit.

“Yeah, yeah. Very funny.” Ian said, before hanging up and ascending the stairs to the house as the voices got louder and louder with each step he took.

He paused just outside the door, trying to discern what was going on inside the house. All he could hear was a random assortment of shouting so decided to bite the bullet and enter the fray.

When he opened the front door and rounded the corner into the living room, he was met with the sights of Fiona, Lip and Veronica on one side of the room whilst Carl was on the other, every person except Kev watching solemnly from the sidelines yelling their hearts out.

Ian quickly skirted behind Carl and joined Kev on the other side of the room.

“What’s going on?” Ian asked him, observing the shouting match in increasing alarm.

“Fiona found a bunch of Carl’s guns stashed around the house, and as you can see – she’s pissed.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Ian said, watching his sister’s face contort with rage. Now was probably not the best time to tell her about his job situation. “She didn’t know he had them?” Ian asked incredulously.

Kev shrugged. To him, Ian and most of the family if they were being real, the fact that Carl was regularly packing heat had been a secret that everyone had known. Clearly not everyone. So Ian didn’t really know why Lip was going in on him, he’d always known. _Classic Lip_ , Ian thought, _what a dick_.

Ian couldn’t help but marvel at the positive arsenal of guns that had been laid haphazardly on the coffee table. Everyone was yelling so loudly and Ian felt as though he should step it, but just wouldn’t even know how to approach the situation.

“How long did you think you’d be able to keep this a secret?! What if Sean had found these? Or Will?! Sean would never get his custody back and it would have been all your fault!” Fiona was showing no signs of slowing down.

“I’ve always been careful!” Carl yelled, and Ian’s derisive snort was lost amid the shouting. “I would never let Will or Sean see these! I’m not an idiot!”

“Are you sure about that?! Do you know the jail-time you would get if you got found with these?!” V seemed to be taking the concerned parent role. “You’ve _just_ got yourself out of juvie, son! You don’t wanna be going to big boy prison now, do you? This is a serious offence, Carl!”

“Is this where you’ve been getting all this extra money?! We don’t care if you don’t provide as much money as the rest of us as long as the money you do bring in isn’t this fucking illegal man. I’m all for a scam but this? This is dirty fucking money.” Lip was also fuming, and for once Ian could see his point. However it was what he said next that really caught his attention. “You’re lucky Fiona got a raise today, that can compensate for all the money you’re not bringing in and a bit extra too. Plus you’re selling all of them. We’ll get a nice bit of profit from this.”

“Fiona got a raise?” Ian asked Kev hopefully.

“Yep, found out last night.” He said, not taking his eyes off the fight. “A good one too. About fifteen percent.”

“No shit!” Ian said, shocked but happy. Maybe she wouldn’t take the news about his job so badly.

“Yeah, she’s real excited about it. We went out last night to celebrate and she stayed at ours for the night. When she came back she found Carl cleaning all of these.” He gestured towards the coffee table laden with the mountain of guns. “He said he thought she wouldn’t be back until later, then she just kind of exploded. We’ve all been here for about an hour.”

“Fuck.” Ian said, wondering how their voice boxes hadn’t given up on them yet. “Aren’t your ears bleeding?”

“They’re about to. You want a smoke?”

“Yes, please.” Ian said in a relieved tone.

Ian and Kev had ended up sitting out on the porch for another forty minutes, chain smoking their cigarettes and talking. Ian told him about getting fired, but told him that he had punched Kash in the face. Kev had just laughed and slapped him on the shoulder, confessing that he’d always thought Kash was a creep and that he was better off.

Ian couldn’t help but agree. As soon as he’d seen the damage to Kash’s face and found out who was to blame, he just found himself falling even deeper in love with Mickey than he already had. He liked to think that to an extent, the reason Mickey had gone after Kash was to treat the pervert a lesson.

He knew that Mickey was just sending a message, a very clear ‘Don’t fuck with what’s mine. Don’t steal from me or you’ll get what’s coming to you.’ It may have had nothing to do with Ian, just an act to mend his bruised ego and pride, but either way Ian liked to hold onto the hope that Mickey still cared about him half as much as the redhead cared about Mickey.

Rather suddenly, the shouting drew to a close. Kev and Ian stood up rather abruptly. Even though they were rapidly approaching Spring, the air was still chilly this early in the morning. They rushed back into the house to find Fiona busying herself over a pan at the hob.

Kev nodded a goodbye to Ian before giving Fiona a furtive glance and leaving the house. Carl, Lip and Veronica were nowhere to be seen so Ian approached the counter, took a seat at it and took a deep breath, ready to tell Fiona about his job.

“What’s wrong?” Fiona asked. Ian was taken aback.

“What do you mean? I haven’t said anything.” He said uncertainly. Fiona looked up from the pan on the hob and fixed him with an incredulous look.

“Ian. Do you think I can’t tell when something’s bothering you? Come on, out with it. Did something happen with Mickey?”

And in that moment, Ian couldn’t lie. Fiona was looking at him so fondly, and he couldn’t be untruthful. He took a deep breath, and told her. He told her about him and Kash, he told her about him and Ned, he told her about Mickey and the awful things they’d said to each other and she listened. He told her about the previous night and losing his job, and for once she didn’t interrupt or pierce him with judging stares or deep sighs and head shaking, she just listened. And once Ian had started, it was hard to stop.

“And now he hates me and won’t talk to me and Jade is telling me to leave it but it just sucks and I miss him so much and I know it’s my fault but that makes it even worse.” Ian took a steadying breath and waited for Fiona to speak.

“Ian, I don’t think you could have fucked up any more if you tried.” She said bluntly, and Ian rushed to tell her that he _knew_ that but she cut across him. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t fixable. Jade’s right. Wait for him to come to you.”

Ian had expected more demands or intrusive questions from Fiona but for once she seemed too tired to impose her opinions so forcefully on everyone else.

“It’s okay that you lost your job. I understand why you’d be anxious to tell me but for what it’s worth, I think you made the right decision.” She gave him a small smile before heading up the stairs.

Ian was suddenly overcome with sadness. He just wanted to make things right. His mind flitted to the upcoming exam and whether Mickey would show. He understood if he didn’t, after all, why would Mickey want to help Ian in any way? However as he thought this to himself, a tiny part of Ian wished and wished that Mickey would show up, because then Ian had hope. So Ian let the tiny flame burn within him, hoping that Mickey _would_ sit the exam and make it burn just that little bit brighter.

***

Mickey lay on his bed, the day after the English exam and the day of Ian’s promotion ceremony with no regrets. He’d made his decision confidently and he stood by it. He knew he’d go to this other ones, one missing grade wouldn’t impede his journey out of this shit hole that severely.

He looked at his phone, not daring to look at the tens of drafts he’d saved (but not sent) for Cole in an attempt to make the blond call off the attack on Ian. He knew that anything he said wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. When Cole Jenkins got an idea into his head, no one was stopping him.

Mickey had tried and tried to think of a way to convince him to halt the plan to beat Ian to a pulp but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it and time was running out. He was still fucking angry at Ian. He couldn’t quite comprehend what Ian had done to him. Their whole relationship seemed like a lie and he couldn’t help but be frustrated with the redhead.

He knew that skipping the English exam and effectively crushing Ian’s dreams by proxy might have been punishment enough but he was still pissed. However he couldn’t ignore the twinge of guilt that stirred within him at the thought of Ian realising that he hadn’t been awarded the credits he needed to get into West Point.

He mentally shook himself, staring up at the stained ceiling of his room and trying to take his mind off it. One thing he knew – he wouldn’t assist Cole. The afternoon sun streamed through his window and Mickey knew that as soon as it started to get dark the guilt would overcome him. So he decided that he’d rather not be conscious when the time should come.

He took a last look at his phone, his thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button on the text that would most likely convince Cole to abandon the plan. After about ten seconds he let out a yell of frustration and threw his phone across the room. He heard the crunch and knew it was now probably useless but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn't really want to talk to anyone anyway.

He heaved himself off his bed and wandered through the house to the kitchen. The house was filthy, a complete mess. He’d been living like a tramp for the past couple of weeks and he knew it was disgusting, but Joey and Colin hadn’t been round to shout at him for the state of his living conditions so he hadn’t bothered to clean it up. He pushed himself up onto the counter and knelt up so that he could reach the back shelves. He cursed his height as he grabbed the bottle of vodka he’d purchased the previous day.

Wasting no time, Mickey unscrewed the cap, revelling in the satisfying noise a newly opened bottle cap made as it was unsealed. He took a swig, trying not to grimace in response to the burn of the liquid as slid down his throat even though no one was there to call him a pussy. He thought of what Mandy would have said if she was there and found himself missing her more than ever before.  
I  
He blinked rapidly before grabbing his smokes and his light off of the counter and heading out of the back door. He couldn’t stay in that empty house anymore, especially not tonight.

***

Mickey couldn’t help but keep his eye on the time. There was a large clock on the side of the church situated in the graveyard where Iggy lay. The time read seven o’clock, which meant that there was only an hour left before Cole went after Ian. Mickey grimaced at the thought of Ian, walking out of his ceremony feeling light as a feather only to have his whole world come crashing down. He took a deep breath, and promptly leant over to throw up.

He spat a few times before sighing and letting his head fall back against the cold stone of Iggy’s grave.

“Wow, you look like shit. Is this what happens every time I’m away?”

Mickey turned his head towards the voice. Mandy was standing a few feet away, arms folded with a disparaging look on her face. He must have been drunker than he thought.

“What are you doing here?” Mickey asked hallucination-Mandy.

“Had to come and check up on my big brother, didn’t I? And it seems like I cam at the right time… Or maybe a little bit late.” She said, looking him up and down.

“My life’s gone to shit, Mands. The one person I thought had the power to change me, make me a- a better person. Gone and fucked me over.”

“What happened?” The hallucination asked, coming a few feet closer and sitting by Mickey.

“Ian.” Mickey said, looking to the rapidly-darkening Sky. “Ian happened. He lured me in. I didn’t want anything but he made me. He made me love him and stand up for him and come out to my friends then he fucked me. Over I mean. Well I nearly came out. It’s just- I’m too drunk. I’m not making any sense.”

“You’re not wrong.” Mandy said. “So you found out he fucked you over, then what?”

“Then I… I texted Cole, and said he should go for it.”

“Go for what?”

“The- the fag bash.”

“The what?!”

“The fag bash. I was so angry and I was drunk and I told him to do it-“ He was cut off by a very real, very painful slap across the face. “What the fuck?! How can you hit me if you’re in my imagination?!”

“I’m not in your imagination you fucking dunce! Did you think you’d been talking to yourself this whole time?!” Mandy had taken a hold of Mickey’s face with both hands, and Mickey could feel them on either side of his face. She hadn’t been a hallucination at all.

“Mands? Are you actually here?” He said, grateful for the fact that the sky was darkening so his sister couldn’t see his eyes brimming with tears.

“How drunk are you?! Of course I’m here, assface. I got let out for overcrowding and good behaviour. When you weren’t at home I assumed you’d be here and I was right.” But Mickey just pulled his sister to his chest and held her tightly, trying and failing to suppress the sniffs that were showing his true feelings. Mandy didn’t say anything, just let herself be held and held her brother back just as tightly.

However it was somewhat brief, for Mandy had to get a few things straight.

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She said, looking her brother in the eyes as he avoided hers.

“So…” Mandy started, once Mickey had recounted the whole sorry tale. “You’re telling me that you’ve fallen in love with a boy who fucked you over, who is clearly very sorry about it seeing as he hasn’t contacted you-“

“How the fuck does that mean he’s sorry?”

“Because, you numb-scull, it means that he’s waiting for you to come to him. He doesn't want to push you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. He wants to give you time and space to come to your own decision.”

“I never thought of it that way…” Mickey admitted.

"Don't disrespect Iggy." She said sternly. That hit Mickey hard. 

"What?" He asked uncertainly. 

"He died for you. There's not way around it. He died so that you could be who you are. So you could be yourself, and this is how you repay him?" Mickey looked away from her sheepishly. He knew she was right. "Do you ever wonder why you come here and talk to Ig? Because he can't talk back to tell you you're being a fucking idiot." 

"You're right." Mickey said. 

“I know. Jesus, how do you survive without me?” Mickey hiccuped in response and Mandy giggled. “Anyway, so he’s clearly sorry, but you ditched the exam you both worked your butts off for meaning that all the time you spent together was a waste for both of you?”

“Yes, but he fucked me over! He deserves it.”

“Hmm, now would you please tell me what Ian’s home life is like?” Mandy said, carefully sneaking one of Mickey’s cigarettes and lighting up, a look of pure bliss on her face as she inhaled her first toke in eight months.

“Shitty. Parents are dead, he’s the middle child so no one pays attention to him and he has about a million siblings who he has to stay strong for all the time.”

Mandy raised her eyebrows at Mickey as if he was the stupidest person alive, however when Mickey didn’t catch the hint, she guessed she had to spell it out for him.

“Did you ever consider cutting him some slack? You say he doesn’t get paid any attention at home… Maybe that’s what he craved in his men, having lots of them. So he felt loved. You said his parents are dead? That probably explains the older man fetish.” She made a face but soldiered on. “You said he has to stay strong for all his siblings? Surely _that’s_ tiring. Did you ever think that maybe his sex life was his way of release from always being the responsible one? Fucking loads of people may have been his way of releasing his inner rebellious self.”

“What the flying fuck? Did you do a fucking shrink’s degree in juvie?” Mickey said, having been staring blankly at his sister as she analysed Ian’s home life and how it may have affected his actions. He wasn’t ashamed to say that he’d never thought of it that way whatsoever.

“No? I’m just intuitive.” Mandy said proudly, smirking to herself as she took a drag of her smoke. Mickey and Mandy sat in silence, when suddenly Mandy started rummaging in her bag, and when Mickey tried to take a peek at what she was searching for, he got a face full of water.

“What the fuck, Mandy?!” He asked, wiping his face and spitting out some of the liquid that had entered his mouth, he found himself suddenly a lot more awake and alert, his surroundings had sharpened and he could feel the cold air on his face where it clung to the water.

“You need to sober up.” Mandy said, giggling at Mickey’s sopping wet face. “Feel better?” Mickey nodded grumpily, wiping the excess off his face.

“When is it meant to happen?” She asked, her face becoming suddenly serious. Mickey looked at the clock which showed twenty minutes past seven.

“Eight.” He said, once again avoiding Mandy’s eye as her expression became thunderous.

“ _Eight?!_ That’s in forty minutes! We need to go!” She stood up, brushing the mud from the ground off the ass of her shorts. “It’ll take us twenty minutes to get the the school alone! And then we have to make a plan and-“

“Mandy, I’m not going. I’m just still not sure. What if everything goes wrong? He really hurt me and… I just don’t know.”

Mandy looked down at her brother, who seemed truly distraught. He was a wreck, he smelt disgusting and he looked so hopeless. She knew he needed that one final push to make him see the light. To make him be the hero, to save Ian and to save himself. She knew what it took, and she got ready to tell him something she hadn’t told anyone. She sat down next to Mickey once more, took his clammy hand and took a deep breath.

“Mickey, remember why I got sent to juvie?” She said tentatively.

“Yeah, some douchebag set you up.”

“Yes,” she said. “He set me up, told me he loved me. He told me that I wasn’t in any danger, I just needed to meet a customer get the money and go back to him. He fed me with lies, telling me that I was the one for him, that he’d never hurt me. Turns out he suspected the drop was going to get busted, so sent me to take the fall for him. He’d laid his plan, months and months of manipulation in case a situation like that should arise. So he knew that someone would always be willing to take the fall for him. That someone was me.”

Mickey stared at his sister, willing her not to say what he thought she was about to say. He knew where this was going.

“He had me wrapped around his finger. Lying to my friends, my family, even you. I’ve never lied to you about anything. _Anything_ but this. That was the power he had over me.” He saw the tears spring to her eyes. “I loved him. I loved him more than I’d loved anything in my life. But it wasn’t real love. Not like I love you or Joey or Colin. It was infatuation. I would have done anything for him… I got to the place that he told me to be, made the drop and was about to bolt when they came.”

Mickey could feel himself getting angrier and angrier with every passing second, but he knew she had not yet proved her point.

“He fucked me over, Mick. He got me sent away from my life, my home, you for nearly a year. It would have been if I hadn’t been sensible. He never cared about me, but Ian does. I know it. Speaking as someone with experience of being mightily fucked over by someone you thought loved you, I can tell. He loves you, Mickey. Show him you love him too. This guy, he came to visit me in juvie, about a month after I went in. He made it clear it would be the last visit.” She gave a mirthless chuckle at the memory, her eyes blank. “He called me a good-for-nothing whore, and that I might as well rot in there for all he cared, and that if I told anyone who he was or what he’d done, he’d kill me, and I knew he was being serious. Do you want that to- to happen to Ian?”

“Mandy.” Mickey said, grabbing his sister by the shoulders to make her look him in the eye. “Who was it?”

“You know, Mick. You know who it was.”

Mickey took one last look at his sister’s stricken face before standing up abruptly, looking at the clock and sprinting out of the graveyard, not looking back. If it was the last thing he did, he would make sure Cole Jenkins didn’t lay a fucking finger on Ian, and that he’d suffer for what he’d done to Mandy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GBH - Grevious Bodily Harm 
> 
> So Cole did it, the bastard. I think there'll only be about 2-3 chapters left! I'll try not to leave as large a time gap as I did from chapter 16-17. Hope you enjoyed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I cannot apologise enough for the delay, but on the bright side I only have two exams left! Thanks for sticking with me, guys! X

Mickey was running so fast it was like time was slowing around him. His lungs and legs ached with every pounding step he took but he needed to reach Ian, he needed to save Ian. What had he been thinking? He couldn’t just let the person he loved be hurt this way. He wouldn’t allow it.

He just needed to get there in time.

***

For the first time in two whole weeks, Ian was genuinely smiling. Happy. He’d come to a decision within himself that he was happy with. He would wait for Mickey, because you had to make sacrifices for the ones you love.

He’d finally managed to go at least an hour without thinking of his currently-ex-boyfriend, and was walking out of the school gates with an ROTC promotion and his best friend. He and Jade had split up from the rest of the Gallagher clan after the ceremony. Fiona had to get back home, she had an early start the next morning and needed to put Liam to bed. Ian didn’t mind that she was leaving early, he was surprised and happy that she’d made the time for him in the first place.

He and Jade had planned to go for a celebratory dinner in central Chicago, a lot further North than Ian ever went to eat, besides when he used to get taken out by Ned. He was excited and proud of himself. Proud of himself for making the right decision, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Mickey was doing at that exact moment, if the brunet was thinking of him or if he’d remembered that Ian had the ceremony at all.

“So, where do you want to go?” Jade asked as Ian lit up a cigarette. “My dad said dinner is on him so pick anywhere, the world is our oyster!” She said, flinging her arms open wide and spinning in a circle while Ian chuckled.

He really couldn’t decide if he was in the mood for a really expensive steak, a filey may yon or whatever the fuck it’s called or if he wanted something a little more adventurous… Maybe Italian.

“Hurry up and decide! I’m famished.” Jade whined, prodding his shoulder with her tiny finger.

“Okay, okay! I think I want… Pizza.” Ian said decisively. Jade stopped in her tracks and gave Ian her best deadpan look.

“We live in Chicago. And you want _pizza_?! Really, Ian?!” She said incredulously.

“I don’t know, I’m just feeling it!” Ian said in mock-defence. She rolled her eyes and sighed, but linked her arm through Ian’s and dragged him to a narrower side street.

“I know a short-cut.” She said, as Ian let himself be dragged into the semi-darkness.

Unbeknownst to the pair, they were not alone. Three silent figures had entered the alley behind them.

***

Mickey’s lungs were screaming for air but he daren’t stop. That was, until he saw a familiar huddle of people coming towards him.

“Fiona!” Mickey shouted, and she turned in alarm, as if ready for an attack from the person who had shouted.

“Oh, hi Mickey! We were just coming from-“

“Where’s Ian?” Mickey interrupted her.

“What? He’s- Mickey, what’s going on?” She said, reaching out an hand to touch his arm. It was all he could do not to flinch, he was so on edge.

“I can’t explain now. Please, just tell me where he is.” Mickey said through laboured breaths as the Gallaghers stared at him, aghast.

“He- he went for a celebratory dinner with Jade. They headed that way,” she said, pointing behind her, “towards the centre of the city.”

Mickey didn’t answer but set off running at full pelt in the direction she had pointed to, ignoring the family’s calls after him. There wasn’t much time, he might already be too late.

***

Ian heard a bottle smash behind him and turned quickly, letting his cigarette fall and his hand slide down Jade’s arm to grip hers. He saw three figures approaching in the darkness, and he already knew who they were. He felt his heart drop.

“Well, well. What do you know?” Cole asked his friends in a jeering tone. Ian couldn’t help but notice that Mickey wasn’t there. “It’s the faggot and his ballsy friend.”

Ian could almost feel the sudden tension and fear radiation off Jade, who was gripping his hand tightly. But Ian was preoccupied. _How did they know he was gay?_ Then a terrible thought occurred to him. _Was Mickey that angry? That upset, that over him that he would tell his friends? Friends who would immediately target him… Even kill him?_

Ian felt his heartbeat in his chest like a pounding drum against his rib cage. His whole body became hot with anxiety and fear, sweat already beginning to accumulate at the nape of his neck, his upper lip. All he could do was stand and wait.

“He doesn’t deny it!” Cole shouted manically, and Jade gripped Ian’s hand still tighter. “You thought we didn’t know, Gallagher?” He said, eyes widening madly as he grinned at the blatant fear on the pair’s faces.

“I make it my business to know about you people. Some things just need to be ah, straightened out, if you’d excuse the pun.” Cole let out a crazed laugh, and Ian couldn’t help but be reminded of one of those cartoon hyenas in the fucking Lion King or some shit.

Jade surreptitiously looked behind her. The alley was long and dark, with night falling rapidly around them.

“Just try and run, girl.” Matt’s voice suddenly carried clear as day to Jade’s ears, and her head whipped around to face the threesome. “See where it gets you.”

“Who told you?” Ian said, trying to get the attention off Jade and back onto himself. Only one person had to get hurt tonight.

“Who d’you fuckin’ think told us?” Cole said, giving Ian a meaningful look. But as Ian’s heart broke within him, he noticed Damon shooting Cole a confused look. However it was over so quickly, Ian’s hopeful mind could have imagined it.

Jade bit her lip, the hand that wasn’t holding Ian’s in a vice-like grip starting to shake. Cole began talking again, but she tuned his taunting goads out of her brain. She needed to think of a plan. If she didn’t work something out soon, then Ian was going to get hurt. Badly.

She looked around for anything, anything that could cause a distraction or get them help. There were no windows on the buildings that lined the alley, nowhere to shout to, no one to hear them. However just as she felt the tears well up in her eyes, she felt Ian squeeze her hand. She looked at him, and he looked back, giving her a small smile. She knew what he was going to do, and it was happening before she could stop it.

“Why do you do this, Cole?” Ian asked. The blond looked taken aback for a split second, but regained himself quickly.

“Do what, teach homos like you a lesson?” Ian didn’t answer, so Cole rambled on. “Because it’s wrong. It’s an abomination and all you fags are pigs. Pigs who deserve to be straightened out. Taught right from wrong. All that shit.” Cole said, advancing towards the pair still closer. He was just a few feet away now.

“You sure?” Ian asked, sliding his hand out of Jade’s to fold his arms over his chest. “Sure it isn’t because of some underlying daddy issues? I mean, he left right? When you were young?”

Cole’s face was reddening with anger, while the other two boys looked at him thoughtfully.

“You shut the fuck up, Gallagher.” He said, pointing a bony, tattooed finger at the redhead. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Ian pressed on, and it was all Jade could do to watch in horror as Ian signed, sealed and delivered his own death sentence. “So your dad did love you? Okay then, I guess I’ll just put your longing, dreamy gazes at Mr Pearson down to raw, animalistic lust then.”

Ian was talking absolute shit and he knew it. He didn’t even know what he was saying, his adrenaline was running so high. Some psych shit that any moron could spout. The stereotypical daddy issues that lead all suppressed gay men to stay in the closet. All bullshit, but it was a Hail Mary. Get the three boys as angry as they could get at _him_ so that he’d suffer the blows, he’d get the beatdown and Jade would remain unharmed. However, said bullshit was definitely doing the trick on Cole, who had stepped up to Ian until he was only inches away. Ian could hardly see the irises of Cole’s eyes, his pupils were blown so wide.

“I mean don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame you. He’s a good looking guy, I can see why-“ And then it happened. The beginning of the end. Cole’s fist collided so hard with the right side of Ian’s face that he genuinely thought he felt his brain reverberating within his skull.

Before he could even register what was happening he’d been hit again, and again, and again. He could hear Jade screaming in the background, telling someone to let her go. He felt blood erupt into his nose, felt the hot liquid flowing thick and fast down his face as he got sucker-punched again, and again.

Cole’s phone fell out of his pocket and bounced across the pavement at Damon’s feet. Matt, who was too absorbed in the fight between Ian and Cole didn’t notice Damon retrieve the phone, unlock it and tap a few button before chucking it back on the floor, but Jade did.

Ian’s vision was blurring, but he could just see Matt holding Jade back while Damon watched, seemingly speechless as Cole laid into him. But suddenly, he wasn’t. Some brute force had collided with Cole, lifting the blond completely off the floor and slamming him into the ground a few feet away.

Ian coughed and spat a mouthful of blood onto the pavement by his head, groaning as Jade continued to yell at Matt to let her go. Ian couldn’t move. His head was too heavy, he couldn’t raise it to identify his saviour, nor could he pick himself up in an attempt to defend himself. As Cole and the mystery hero tussled on the floor, sounds of fists hitting flesh puncturing the air once in a while, along with the jumbled shouts of Jade, Matt, Cole and... Wait. Ian could recognise that voice anywhere.

“You don’t fucking touch him. And _this_ ” Ian heard the sound of a landing punch, “Is for my sister!” The fourth voice yelled, and in a sudden spurt of adrenaline, Ian lifted his head to see Mickey, _his_ Mickey, wrestling with Cole just a few feet away.

“Mick!” Cole said as he managed to catch his breath. “Didn’t think you’d make it.” The realisation of the statement hit him. Mickey had known, and done nothing to stop it.

“You?!” Mickey shouted at Damon, holding Cole down by the throat while he confronted his best friend.

“I ain’t touched ‘em Mick, I swear.” Damon said, holding his hands up in a mock surrender. He offered his hand to Mickey and the brunet took it, heaving himself off Cole and giving Damon a quick man-hug. Ian didn’t want to ruin the moment between the two boys but he thought it also appropriate that he should alert the masses to the fact that he was definitely in need of urgent medical care, as he could feel himself choking on the excess blood that was tricking down his throat. He coughed, spluttering blood all over his shirt, and suddenly Mickey was there.

Ian smiled up at him. Only for his momentary bliss to be taken away seconds before it was granted to him.

Cole had gotten to his feet, blood running down his face in a similar fashion to Ian’s, his eyes still wide, still grinning.

“You two then? You’ve been what, fucking? In your secret study sessions?” Ian’s eyes narrowed, he thought Mickey had told them about him… Unless Cole was talking as much as shit as he had been…

“And you?” Cole continued, wildly gesturing towards Damon. “You’ve been helping him?”

“Oh my _god_ , man just get over it Cole!” Damon said, and Cole turned towards him blindly. “So what, Mickey’s gay. Who gives a fuck? We can’t be intolerable dicks forever, you know. Plus, you had to have been blind not to see it, Mick could never get enough of Mr P in English.”

Despite the circumstances, Mickey snorted with laughter. Meanwhile, Ian was slowly gathering his strength as the conversation continued. He sat up slightly, Mickey was turned away from him, watching the conversation between Cole and Damon unfold.

“Who gives a fuck if he fucks dudes? It says more about you than it does about him.”

“Oh yeah? What does it say about me, tough guy?” Cole said, spitting a wad of blood onto the ground beneath him.

“That you’re a massive douche, and we all know it. It’s time to end this shit. You need to grow the fuck up, we all know it. It’s tiring and boring. _You’re_ boring. And I’m done with it. We all know that you and this fuckhead” he gestured towards Matt, whose grip on Jade was loosening, “Will never get out of here. You’ll both get jobs at some shitty garage, knock up some whore then leave, just like both your deadbeat fathers did to you, because that’s all you’ll ever be good for. No good, lowlife South Side trash.”

Damon turned towards Ian and Mickey, apparently thinking the statement would end matters, and suddenly everything happened very fast. Matt forcefully threw Jade to the ground, forcing her to land awkwardly on her ankle, spraining it. Matt let out a strangled yell and tackled Damon from behind and the smaller boy crumpled under his enormous weight. Mickey sprang into action immediately, not noticing that Ian no longer needed his support.

The thug sprang to his feet to defend his friend, trying to grab a hold of Matt’s massive bulk and heave him onto his back. He succeeded as Ian crawled over to Jade.

“I’m fine.” Jade said, tears in her eyes as she moved her ankle gingerly. “Damon called for help.” She said immediately. She had no way of knowing for certain what or who Damon had called, but from his statement to Cole, she knew it to be true. She was just praying that whoever it was, got here sooner rather than later.

Ian turned back to the fight and saw Mickey fighting with Cole, ducking and weaving each other's punches. But suddenly, Damon was knocked down, and Matt started towards Mickey and Cole, his eyes full of rage. Ian yelled and ran to Mickey’s aid, trying his best to rugby tackle Matt to the ground. Every bone in his body ached, but he barely felt it. He had to do this.

Soon enough Mickey had knocked Cole on his ass and was helping Ian with Matt. With both their strengths combined, they managed to bring him down, and with one final punch Matt was out cold.

Ian took a deep breath, as Mickey struggled to get his back. He sat back on his haunches and let out a strangled yell, as he had many times before and Ian chuckled. It was so Mickey, and he was so happy that the shorter boy came back for him that for a second he forgot that Mickey was in on it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement and before he could even speak, Cole was on his feet and running the short distance towards his former friend.

“Mickey!” Ian shouted, but before Mickey could even turn around, another figure had blocked Cole’s path and was thrown onto his back by the force of Cole’s sprint.

Before anyone could work out what had happened, Jade’s yell of relief rent the air.

“Oh thank god, we’re here! We’re here!” Ian looked up to see Mickey’s brothers sprinting down the alley towards him, along with a hoard of cops with torches and guns. The policemen headed straight for Matt, Ian and Jade upon seeing the injuries the three had sustained, and during all the hubbub, Ian couldn’t even see Mickey, until he could. He saw him as though a beacon of light was illuminating him, through the many legs of all the people surrounding them, he saw him.

Mickey was kneeling beside Damon, who was lying on the pavement which was stained a deep red, the colour slowly spreading. He had Damon’s head cradled in his arms as he looked up at Mickey, coughing and spluttering as blood ran down from his mouth onto his hoodie.

Mickey looked into the brown eyes of his best friend, and suddenly realised how young he looked. Tears ran down his face and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“I called your brothers M-Mick.” He said upon seeing who had arrived at the scene, smiling slightly. “I knew ha-having their numbers memorised would c-come in handy one day. Didn’t I tell you?” He stuttered.

“You did.” Mickey said, sniffing. “Still weird as fuck though.”

“You say that b-but, now you owe me.” Damon said, his breathing becoming pants as he laughed, which quickly turned into sobs. “I don’t wanna leave. You’ve never owed me anything, it’s p-payback t-time. Can’t miss that.” He said, even as tears ran down his face.

Mickey felt his heart break.

“Say bye to my ma. T-tell her I love her and all that shit.” He said, and Mickey closed his eyes as sadness tore through his body like a white hot flame.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He said, resting his forehead atop Damon’s. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

But suddenly he wasn’t. A paramedic had materialised out of nowhere and was hauling Mickey off of Damon’s limp body as his best friend was heaved onto a stretcher and an oxygen mask was put over his mouth and nose.

“Dispatch we’ve got a stab wound in a side alley off Central Avenue…” As their voices got quieter as they hurried away down the alley, Mickey caught a glimpse of Ian. He looked bad, but alive. And no matter how much he loved that stupid, freckly git, he wasn’t the priority. Without a backwards glance, Mickey took off down the alley, running as fast as he could back to the Milkovich house.

***

Ian was walking, but he didn’t feel as though he was. He could feel the warm air of the Chicago night on his face, and the feel of his hand in Jade’s as they just walked. Ian didn’t know where they were going, but he didn’t care. Jade seemed to know. And if she knew, then he was okay.

It was like his mind was moving at a million miles a minute as well as not functioning at all. There was still blood all over him. The paramedics did their best to clean up his face, but his clothes remained soaked.

Jade was limping, he could see her awkward steps in his peripheral vision. He guessed that was why they seemed to be walking slowly. He didn’t mind.

Everything was a blur. He kept replaying the vague shapes and colours he could remember swirling around him during the commotion. The light blue of Jade’s dress, the yellow font on Cole’s T-shirt, the deep red of Damon’s blood as it dripped onto the cement.

People around the pair were moving as if they were living their lives in double time. Countless people knocked into Ian as they moved towards their destination, everyone rushing somewhere. Ian found himself thinking about Mickey, wondering where he was, if he was okay. With the large possibility that his friend had just lost his life, he guessed not.

Soon enough they were coming to a halt. Ian recognised the building as if from a dream, but he knew that he’d been there many times before. He stared at nothing as the door opened. Someone was talking, he could hear Jade and Melissa but he just didn’t have a care in the world for what they were saying.

“What’s wrong with him?” Melissa asked, clearly concerned. Ian could feel her eyes on him.

“I don’t know. He’s gone into some catatonic state. He hasn’t said a word since everything went down. I think he’s in shock.”

Melissa sighed and ushered them inside the house.

All Ian wanted to do was sleep, but Jade said that he could have a concussion and that he must not fall asleep under any circumstances. After a few hours, Ian began to come back to himself, although not completely. He uttered his first words at about three in the morning, when he couldn’t stand the uncertainty any more.

“Where’s Mickey?”

Jade startled, clearly being half way asleep when Ian had interrupted her slumber.

“I talked to Joey and Colin, they said that he reckon he’s gone to the hospital to be with Damon. They said they’d call me if anything happened.”

“Okay.” Ian said, returning to his motionless silence as Jade tried not to fall asleep. Ian didn’t think he would be able to if he tried.

***

At five thirty in the morning, the phone rang. Again, Jade woke up with a start. Ian watched anxiously as she picked up the phone. After about a minute of ‘Hmm’s, ‘yeah’s and ‘okay’s, she finally hung up.

“He’s in a coma…” She said sadly, and Ian felt his heart sink. “He lost a lot of blood, but he’s stable.”

“What does that mean? When’s he gonna wake up?” Ian said, and Jade looked surprised but relieved at his eagerness to find out about the situation.

“We don’t know yet, but apparently Mickey’s been there all night and won’t leave until he has.”

“Okay.” Ian said. He’d thought a lot while Jade had been asleep, about the events of the evening, how he felt about it all and most importantly, what he wanted to do about Mickey. Everything had changed during the course of twenty four measly hours. Everything. Mickey had hurt him tonight. He knew from Cole’s words that at some point, Mickey had planned on joining the other three in the plans of an attack against him. The punches he endured didn’t hurt half as much as that truth.

He’d analysed every possibility, every outcome of each decision he could make regarding Mickey, but he knew the path he had to take. The path which was best for him and Mickey. He’d made up his mind, and nothing Mickey could say or do would change it. The only barrier to overcome was telling the him.

***

The last forty eight hours of Mickey’s life had been the longest he’d ever endured. The hours Damon had been in surgery had felt like days. He hadn’t gotten any sleep since Damon was stabbed, and he wouldn’t get any until he woke up.

He didn’t take it out on the staff. He’d seen how annoying characters on TV or in movies could be when their loved ones were dying, shouting at the nurses and making a scene. In his opinion that didn’t help anyone. He just wanted to be there for his friend.

Not being rude or unsavoury definitely had its perks. He was allowed to sleep in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair beside Damon’s bed at night, despite visiting hours being only from ten till six.

He’d hardly said two words. Apart from saying the occasional ‘yes’ or ‘okay’ to the nurse giving him updates on Damon’s condition, he stayed silent. He didn’t believe all that crap people spurt about comatose people being able to hear everything you say to them. Even if he did, there was no need. He’d wake up soon enough.

Mickey never left Damon’s bedside unless it was to get food, coffee or go to the bathroom. Even when the nurses were doing their checks, he didn’t leave. He couldn’t. There was no way Damon was waking up alone – no way.

Damon’s mother came to visit on the third day. That was hard. She sobbed onto Damon’s chest for fifteen minutes, before declaring that she was going to get Mickey a change of clothes. He appreciated the sentiment, but he couldn’t wear Damon’s clothes. Not now, maybe not ever. He pushed that thought out of his mind as soon as it came.

A routine began. Each day, Mickey would have a two minute shower before sitting down at the hospital chair by Damon’s bed which he now considered his bed. He would read, sleep, do crosswords or just stare at his best friend. He was never bored. That’s just how it was. Damon’s mother visited daily, bringing Mickey snacks and coffee, never once questioning why he was there or asking him to leave.

She talked to Damon, a lot, while Mickey listened. It was rather therapeutic. Mickey never talked, although he was mentioned in quite a few of her monologues. Mickey liked to think that he could at least feel his presence or some shit, even if he didn’t talk.

He’d only cried once, when he randomly recalled an incident where he and Damon were high, and Damon claimed that he had a connection with Mickey, as if they were twins. Mickey had laughed it off and called him crazy, but now he understood it.

When you’re so close with someone, that seeing them hurt causes a little piece of you to die inside you, and your whole body aches when you see them in pain, as if you were feeling it too, he understood that. He felt that with Damon, and he felt that with Ian.

He hadn’t had much time to think about Ian. After nine days of Mickey living at the hospital, he had accepted that Ian wanted nothing to do with him. He hadn't tried to call, hadn’t visited, nothing. He deserved it.

By day twelve, Mickey was beginning to lose his nerve. It shouldn’t have taken this long. Mickey saw the truth in the nurses’ eyes when they were doing his check ups. Mickey still refused to leave the room. He should have woken up in twelve days. Twelve says was too long. He could see the nurses shooting him furtive looks as they discussed the fate of his best friend in a huddle.

He turned away from the small group of concerned staff, and found a pair of deep brown eyes staring back at him.

A tumultuous wave of emotion crashed over Mickey with such power that he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. His eyes filled up with tears as his breath quickened, unable to believe what he was saying.

“Alright, man. Don’t have a heart attack, jeez.” Damon croaked. Mickey reached forward and grasped his best friend’s hand, resting his head on their entwined fingers as sobs racked his body.

After about two minutes, Mickey took a few deep, steadying breaths and sat up straight, to find Damon fixing him with an intense stare. He didn’t need to say anything. Mickey knew what it meant.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that to me. _Ever_ again.” Mickey said seriously, gripping Damon’s hand still tighter, his voice scratchy from the lack of use over the previous fortnight.

“What are you, my wife?” Damon asked, sniggering at Mickey’s thunderous expression. “Where’s my ma?” Damon asked after a minute or so.

“She usually comes by at around three.” Mickey said automatically.

“Jeez, how long have I been in here? What year is it? Who’s president?!” He asked, and Mickey rolled his eyes. “You two have set up a proper schedule then? You have mornings and she has afternoons?” He asked jovially.

“More like she has afternoons and I have always.” Mickey said tiredly, not fully realising what he’d just admitted to. Damon’s mouth opened and closed in the shock of the realisation that Mickey hadn’t left his side. However he knew not to make a big deal about it.

“Oh… I was wondering what the smell was.” He said. Mickey slapped Damon’s thigh but laughed along with him.

There was a moment’s silence until Damon spoke again.

“What happened to Cole? And Matt?” He asked cautiously. Mickey sighed. At leas tone good thing could come out of this whole situation.

“Prison.” He said shortly.

“No shit?” Damon said. Damon knew that Cole would get in trouble for the happening but he didn’t think he would end up in prison.

“Yep, big boy prison too. They found out what happened with Mandy, she gave a testimony against him, finally. They arrested him on the spot, Matt as an accomplice.” Mickey said, forgetting that Damon didn’t know half the story.

“What about Mandy?” He said anxiously. Mickey looked at him strangely.

“You know all that shit that went down with Mandy and the mystery man?” Mickey asked, but given the expression of pure rage on Damon’s face, he was guessing that the other boy had already connected the dots.

“That was him?” Damon asked lowly, and Mickey just nodded in confirmation. “I didn’t know, Mick,” Damon said, and Mickey nodded. He’d never suspected that Damon had anything to do with the incrimination of his sister. “Believe me, I would have killed him on the spot if I knew.” He admitted, looking at the oil painting of a vase of flowers on the opposite wall as if it had done him a serious misdeed.

Mickey decided to let that slip too. He couldn’t be dealing with his best friend’s potential feelings for his sister at the present time. However, it seemed that Damon had other ideas.

“So… She’s back?” He ventured causally, and Mickey fixed him with a deadpan look.

“She got out yesterday on overcrowding and good behaviour.” He said, waiting for the inevitable.

“Do you know if she’s like… Seeing anyone?” Damon asked, picking at a loose thread on his blanket.

“Well, seeing as she’s been in juvie for the past 18 months, I think it’s safe to say she’s on the market.” Mickey said sarcastically. Damon rolled his eyes.

“So do you think I could-“

“My sister, Damon? _Really_?” Mickey asked incredulously.

“Hey man, you owe me.” Damon said, a cheeky grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

“You actually suck so bad.” Mickey said, getting up out of his chair and heading towards the bathroom door. He peed, looked at himself in the mirror and found he couldn’t stop smiling. He couldn’t believe that Damon was back. His best friend. And he knew. He finally knew about Mickey, and he was okay with it. Mickey had never felt so free in his life, and for the first time he felt a wave of guilt wash over him at how much he’d taken Damon for granted during the past year. He’d been a shitty friend, but he was ready to make it up to him.

Suddenly, a piercing scream rent the air, and Mickey’s heart beat hard and fast in his chest as he yanked the door of the bathroom open and stumbled into Damon’s room, only to find Damon’s mother crying her eyes out, her head laid on her son’s chest as he patted her on the back. Mickey made eye contact with Damon and laughed out loud at the expression on his face. It felt good to laugh.

“Mickey?” A small voice in the doorway of the room called.

Mickey turned to see Ian standing there, looking shy and awkward, as if he had no right to be there. Mickey was silent for a second as he was momentarily left speechless by Ian’s appearance.

“Sup Gallagher.” Damon said, giving Ian a warm smile. “Meant to say, sorry for not stopping the beatdown earlier, that was a dick move.”

“That’s okay, I probably deserved some of those punches anyway.” He said, looking meaningfully at Mickey, and the shorter boy felt all his insecurities about Ian’s behaviour seep away in that moment.

Ian made eye contact with Mickey and tilted his head ever-so-slightly out of the door, clearly indicating that he wished Mickey to follow him. Mickey looked towards Damon, who nodded, and Mickey took that as consent to leave him alone with his mother.

Mickey followed Ian out of the room and walked with him until they found a relatively empty corridor to talk privately in.

“Before you say anything, I’ve thought a lot about this. Over the past fortnight, since our fight, since everything happened, and I’ve made a decision that I think is right for me, and right for you. But obviously I needed to tell you in person.”

Mickey heaved a deep sigh. This was it.

“We need to talk.” Ian said, and Mickey closed his eyes, feeling the backs of his eyeballs burn with unshed tears and solemnly, he nodded.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue left peeps...


	19. Chapter 19

One year later

_“You’re mine, Mickey. Fucking mine.”_

_Mickey could do nothing but grunt his assent as Ian pounded into him. Mickey was literally seeing stars._

_“Say it Mickey, say you’re mine.”_

Mickey awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, breathing hard. He took a second to catch his breath, trying his utmost to ignore the cold, empty space on the other side of his bed which used to be so often occupied. He took a deep breath, and tried to push thoughts of the vacated space beside him. It didn’t work.

Mickey reached over to his nightstand and retrieved his phone, dialling a number and listening to the ring tone until-

“Look, I know it’s late but I can’t sleep without you. When are you coming home?”

***

Ian had been away for a week. A whole week, visiting colleges with Jade. Mickey was going out of his mind. He knew he sounded pathetic, but it was the longest time he and Ian had been apart since they got back together that day at the hospital.

It was safe to say the two boys sorted things out. Ian basically told Mickey in words of one syllable that he was taking him back, and there was nothing he could do about it. Mickey was quick to state that he had no objections.

After a quick trip home to fuck each other's brains out, (which Mickey had so pleasantly recalled in his dream) Mickey went back to the hospital and Ian went to see Jade. Mickey was told that Damon was free to leave but was under strict instructions regarding his healing, and Damon rolled his eyes and inwardly groaned at the realisation that with these two watching him, there was no way he’d be able to go for a smoke on his own, let alone anything else.

But he knew they cared about him, and he knew that even if they didn’t let him do anything and sucked all the fun out of his life for the next couple of months, it would feel a hell of a lot better than doing it on his own.

The past year with Ian had been the best of Mickey’s life. Yes, they fought but they always made up, and in the best way. They rarely spent the day together, each doing their own thing, but the evenings and nights were the moments they spent together, eating dinner or getting high, watching movies and playing video games, talking or studying.

Ian had taken a great interest in Mickey’s language, and Ian had spent hours on end listening to and learning to write and Ukrainian. Mickey was mightily impressed and proud of him. He himself didn’t know how hard it was to learn a new language, having been brought up speaking both English and his mother tongue, but seeing Ian frustrated and impatient then his face suddenly being filled with pride and satisfaction after finally grasping a particularly tricky concept made Mickey think that he took his being bilingual for granted.

Ian was noway near fluent, but he could hold a decent conversation, and Mandy and Mickey had taken to speaking Ukrainian around the house and including Ian in their conversations. Although Ian sometimes mixed up clauses or couldn’t keep up when the siblings talked too fast, he could understand most things, and Mickey could see that nothing made him happier than being let into the one thing that Mandy and Mickey had always strived to keep private.

As for Mickey himself, he’d almost traded interests with Ian. A year ago, he’d pleaded with the school board to let him retake the English exam he’d missed while he was being childish and pathetic and not considering his own future out of stubbornness. After much deliberation, they agreed and Mickey had retaken the exam. His results came in the summer, and Mickey couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the little black letter on the paper.

_A._

He’d done it. He’d fucking done it and no one was prouder, not even Mickey himself, than Ian. The redhead had almost cried with happiness and pride when Mickey had literally jumped up and down, punching the air and screaming.

_“I got an A motherfuckers! An A!”_

The result pushed Mickey to improve his English skills still further, and prompted him to sacrifice his pride and actively seek help from Jade and Mr Pearson regarding college applications. He and Ian had spent hours talking it over, and they’d ultimately decided not to apply for the same colleges, just ones that are close in proximity, wanting their own college experiences. It had always been Mickey’s secret dream to live in New York, and after confiding this in Ian it was decided. They applied to colleges throughout the New York area, and Mickey couldn’t be happier.

The majority of universities each boy had applied to were not red brick, apart from one each. They thought they might as well apply, the worst they could say was no, and at least they could admit they had the guts to at least try. The colleges were expensive, but the Milkoviches had more than enough money to see both the boys through as well as a healthy sum from the Gallaghers in contribution to Ian’s education.

After Fiona received yet another promotion and Lip had scored a high-paying job in something to do with robotics after graduating, the Gallaghers were doing well for money. Expendable income was not an issue for the mad family any more, and it made Fiona’s heart sore when she didn’t have to tell Carl or Debbie that they couldn’t afford to do the things they wanted. Carl even had a paintballing party for this birthday, and the look on his face when Fiona told him it was possible made all the hard work worth it.

Ian applied to study at Columbia wanting to do ‘Linguistics of Modern Day European Language’ as well as West Point having received his credits for tutoring Mickey after all, whilst Mickey took a long shot (in his opinion) and applied to NYU, wanting to be an English major with a minor in American Literature. The pair laughed about the fact that it was like they’d swapped lives.

Mickey wasn’t dreading April, because he knew that he’d get in somewhere. He hadn’t confided this outwardly cocky statement to Ian as he thought that was definitely pushing the limits on jinxing it or whatever, but deep down, he knew he was going to college next year – and he knew Ian was too. But it was still nerve wracking.

***

Mickey had had next to no sleep in seven days. He was grumpy, on edge and just impatient for Ian to come home. When he heard the lock scrape he felt his stomach erupt with butterflies. He didn’t know why he was nervous, but he definitely was. He didn’t know what to do. Run up to the door and bear hug him? Or play it cool and let Ian come to him.

It was when he heard the door open that he realised he was being an idiot. He bounded off his bed and jogged through the door and bumped smack bang into his boyfriend.

“Hi!” Ian said happily, and Mickey’s face split into a grin before he looped his arms around the redhead’s neck and drew him in for a kiss. Ian dropped his bag with a heavy clunk and hoisted Mickey up so that his legs automatically wrapped around his waist.

Though he would never admit it, the kissing was what Mickey missed and craved the most. The feeling of Ian’s tongue against his and the breath from the redhead’s nose tickling his face, how his heart beat fast and his mind went fuzzy, it was amazing.

Ian walked the pair blindly over to the bed and threw Mickey upon it as he had so many times before, however there seemed to be no teasing on the cards, only urgency and need. Ian immediately crawled on the bed until he could settle over Mickey completely. His hand slid under the brunet’s shirt and swiped firmly over his nipple making Mickey gasp. Ian smiled against Mickey’s lips before moving across to his neck.

“A week is- is too long man.” Mickey said, knowing exactly how to rile Ian up. “Orgasms aren’t the same without you.”

Ian lifted himself up abruptly, looking daggers at his boyfriend.

“You’ve been getting off without me?” He accused, and Mickey only grinned cheekily, knowing full well what Ian’s thoughts were on this subject.

“What is the rule?” Ian demanded joking, trying to stop himself from laughing.

“No getting off without you.” Mickey recited, grinning. Suddenly Mickey felt a sharp pinch to his nipple. “Hey! I didn’t actually do it?!”

Ian giggled.

“I know, just wanted to hear you say it.” Ian said, smiling.

“Suck my dick.” Mickey said, rolling his eyes.

“With pleasure.” Ian said seductively, before leaving a trail of kisses down Mickey’s torso and pulling down his sweats.

***

The day the first envelope came, it was for Ian, informing him that he’d been successful in his application to City College. Although it wasn't his first choice, Ian still revelled in the satisfaction of his first acceptance, a feeling that Mickey didn’t get until a week later.

After receiving his first rejection from Lehman, Mickey wasn’t feeling so hopeful, until the NYU letter came. Mickey held the heavy, thick, unopened envelope in his slightly-shaking hands and couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Everyone knew what a thick envelope meant - acceptance.

Ian, Mandy, Damon, Colin and Joey were looming over him poking and prodding at him to open the fucking letter, but Mickey spoke and they all stopped speaking at once.

“I just need a second.” Mickey said quietly, taking a deep, steadying breath. He felt Ian’s hand fall on his shoulder and knew that he was in the eye of the storm, the precious, few calm moments before everything would explode in a wave of noise, movement and emotion. He took another deep breath, concentrating on the grounding feeling of Ian’s heavy hand on his shoulder, and ripped the letter open.

He turned to face his family, and read the first sentence.

_Dear Mr Milkovich_

_Congratulations! You have been successful in your application to New York University for Fall of 2018…_

“Fuck…” Mickey whispered, and he could feel the tension radiating off the people in front of him. There was a moment of silence before-

“Well, what the fuck does it say?!” Mandy yelled, earning a sharp slap on the arm from Ian.

“I got in.” Mickey said quietly, and there was a split second of realisation before Ian spoke.

“You got in?” Ian asked tentatively, edging closer to his boyfriend, Mickey nodded and Ian asked again, louder and jovially, “You got in?!”

Mickey’s face split into a wide grin, nodding fervently and just as he knew it would, the room exploded as everyone began cheering, whooping and shouting Mickey’s praise. Ian scooped his arms, muscles bulging around Mickey’s middle and hoisted him into the air while the brunet yelled for the asshole to put him down, but laughing all the same.

Colin produced a bottle of champagne seemingly out of nowhere and popped the cork, bubbly alcohol splattering all over the floor that Ian had just mopped the previous day, but he didn’t seem to care. The look on Ian’s face made Mickey’s chest burst with pride. The redhead was looking at him as though he had hung the moon and stars in the sky, and in that moment, Mickey knew that he would do anything in the world to get Ian to look at him like that again.

“I knew you could do it.” Ian whispered in his ear before lightly kissing the side of his head. Mickey squirmed and tried to stifle a giggle but Ian heard.

***

Mickey literally thought they were being punk’d when a hefty envelope with Ian’s name on arrived from Columbia, and when Ian opened it to find that he’d also been accepted to one of his top choice colleges, the pair both thought it was too good to be true.

Ian didn’t get into West Point, even with the extra credits he received from tutoring Mickey, but he found that he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. People change, and their dreams change along with them. He didn’t want to be an officer anymore. It was a brave and respectable dream, but his interests and priorities have changed. He’d been accepted into an Ivy League university, doing a course he absolutely loved the sound of, and was entering a new stage of his life, with his amazing boyfriend in a new city. Entering a new life, and he couldn’t fucking wait.

The boys were in a semi-permanent state of shock, but it helped to remind each other of their achievements once in a while…

“You got into NYU.” Ian said quietly, tracing swirls and circles on Mickey’s bare chest as they lay together, sweaty and breathless.

“You got into Columbia.” Mickey replied. They took a moment to smile dumbly at each other, before laughing. “It’s like I’m in a dream.” Mickey admitted, turning onto his back, but reaching for Ian’s hand and depositing it back onto his chest.

“I know.” Ian agreed, thinking back to when Mr Pearson first told him that he’d be tutoring the infamous Mickey Milkovich. “What’s your real name?” Ian asked suddenly, and Mickey turned to him.

“What?” He asked nervously.

“What’s your real name?” Ian repeated, noticing Mickey biting his lip, and knowing that he’d struck gold. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked sooner. “You can’t have been christened ‘Mickey’.”

“And why the fuck not?” Mickey asked in mock outrage.

“Come on, just tell me!” Ian said, smacking Mickey’s chest lightly.

“Mikhailo.” Mickey said, not looking away from Ian as the redhead got all starry-eyed.

“That was easier than I thought it was going to be.” He said, before repeating Mickey’s real name over and over, as if relishing the feel of the word roll off his tongue. “Mikhailo. Mikhailo. _Mikhailo…_ Mikahilo.”

“Oh my god, shut _up_.” Mickey said, laughing as he covered Ian’s mouth with his hand and just as Ian moved to tickle Mickey until he couldn’t breathe, a bump sounded over their heads. “For fuck sake.” Mickey said, this being a regular occurrence.

The bumps became louder and more rhythmic and Mickey groaned, while Ian bit his lip, stifling a giggle.

“Hey!” Mickey suddenly yelled, and the bumping came to a sudden stop. “Fuck on the floor or something, I’m tired of hearing this shit!”

“Sorry man!” Came Damon’s voice through the wall, and after some squeaking of bedsprings, Ian assumed the couple had moved to the floor.

“They have to hear us too…” Ian said carefully, in a real effort not to poke the bear. It didn’t work.

“You’re not Damon’s best friend and I’m Mandy’s brother!” He said loudly.

“Well, I am Mandy’s best friend according to her, and yes, you’re Mandy’s brother and they never complain.” Ian said and Mickey rolled his eyes.

Ian and Mandy had become very close over the last year, with everyone living under the same roof again. Jade had become rather jealous at one point, spurring Ian to prove his loyalty and love by accompanying her on her trip to view all the colleges in Christendom. Colin and Joey had moved back to the Southside after realising that Ian and Mickey would be gone soon, not counting on the fact that Mandy and Damon would also move in permanently, but Mickey thought that secretly they liked having a full house.

“Yeah but our sex sounds hot.” Mickey said suggestively. “That’s why they’ve never said anything, it gets them going.”

“Ew, that’s your sister, man. Gross.” Ian said grimacing.

“Well, I know for a fact it gets Damon’s juices flowing.” Mickey said, his face clearly showing that he’d just revealed something he shouldn’t have.

“No shit!” Ian said, surprised. Mickey gave a small nod and Ian grinned. “Let’s get those juices flowing then.” Ian said seductively.

Mickey grinned as Ian rolled himself on top of his boyfriend and kissed him, hard.

Ten minutes later, a sharp shout in Ukrainian pierced through the wall and Mickey and Ian erupted into laughter.

“замовкни!”

***

Mandy and Damon were officially an item, and Mickey didn’t know how he felt about it.

It was true that Damon helped encourage Mandy to take classes at community college instead of just working, so she wouldn’t limit herself only to taking over Joey and Colin’s business.

It was also true that Damon had helped Mandy become more confident in herself and her abilities and ambitions, but also softened her demeanour and attitude which had been hardened during her time in juvie.

Mandy had also helped Damon in that he wasn’t so reluctant to say what he was feeling and stand up for himself. She’d also helped him realise that he deserves the world and then some.

Mickey could see that Damon made Mandy genuinely happy, the happiest he’d seen her since Terry had gone to jail, or since she’d been fucked over by Cole. He could also see that his sister made his best friend happy beyond words, he’d never seen him treat anyone with such respect and kindness, not even himself.

He wondered if that’s what he and Ian looked like on the inside. He hoped so, he loved Ian so much and though it sounds cheesy, he didn't care who knew it. He hoped that his love for Ian was as blatant as his sister’s and his best friend’s.

So yes, Mandy and Damon were officially an item. And deep down, Mickey knew exactly how he felt about it. Over the fucking moon for the pair of them.

***

There was one blot on the horizon for Ian. One, inescapable sadness that loomed over him like a dark cloud whenever he thought about the upcoming year.

Jade had been accepted to Brown University, in Rhode Island. 200 miles away from New York. He couldn’t imagine not seeing his best friend every day, and although they assured each other they would Skype and call each other every night, Ian couldn’t help but feel like he missed her already. They already agreed to spend as much of the summer as they could together, not wasting any of the precious little time they had left of being able to spend as much time together as they wanted.

Mickey saw the effect it was having on Ian, every time she left Ian would smile and wave, but his grin would falter as soon as the door swung shut. He had to do something.

***

Joey and Colin were planning on scrapping Mickey’s car, as he wouldn’t need it in New York, and there wouldn't be anywhere to permanently park it anyway, but Mickey saw an opportunity and took it.

“Hey, Jade!” Mickey whisper shouted after telling Ian he was going for a cigarette.

“Hey, Mick.” She said turning to him, also looking slightly forlorn after leaving her best friend.

“How would you like to take my car to Rhode Island?” He said. She looked at him, aghast.

“What?!” She asked, surprised.

“Joey and Colin were going to scrap it, but I thought it would be of more use to you than a compactor.” She was listening, clearly interested. “We can’t park it permanently in New York, but you could easily find space in Rhode Island, and that way you can come and visit Ian whenever you like! And get around Rhode Island easily, of course.”

Jade was looking at Mickey as though he was Christ reborn.

“Are you sure? You’re completely serious?” She asked, excitement beginning to radiate off her like heat.

“Yes I’m sure you buffoon, I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it – you know that.” Mickey said, lighting up a cigarette.

“I do, I do. And of course it would be the most logical solution, as train tickets are usually more expensive than gas these days, and there’s on campus parking so I could easily keep the car there…” She said as Mickey rolled his eyes, before suddenly leaping onto Mickey, latching her arms and legs around his body.

“Ugh, get off me you limpet!” Mickey yelled, her flailing limbs forcing him to throw his barely smoked cigarette onto the pavement to avoid the risk of it burning her. He looked at it sadly for a second before he heard Ian opening the door to see what all the commotion was about.

“Ian!” Jade detached herself from Mickey’s torso and ran to Ian, flinging herself into his arms. “Mickey’s giving me his car! Mickey is _giving me his fucking car!”_

“You are?!” Ian asked.

“Always the tone of surprise!” Mickey said grumpily, before he was suddenly enveloped into a massive three-way hug between him and the two best friends. He just sighed and let it happen, awkwardly patting the pair’s backs while they began to make arrangements for the best times to visit and what they were going to do. Already. Mickey rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to feel a little proud that he’d made this happen.

“I love you.” Ian whispered, and Mickey smiled and buried his head into his boyfriend’s chest.

***

It was nearing the end of summer, and although the boys weren’t due to leave for another three weeks, the Gallaghers had thrown the pair a ‘going-away’ party. Debbie refused to call it a ‘farewell’ or a ‘goodbye’ party because _“It isn’t goodbye really. You’ll be back before we know it.”_

Carl had agreed to the use of his new sound system that blasted music at about a thousand decibels which he had gotten for his birthday, a decision that Fiona told Mickey she ultimately regretted after being woken up at three in the morning for four nights in a row. However she seemed to be appreciating it now – as she danced around the kitchen and into the living room with Kev bouncing after her.

The room was packed with every member of Ian and Mickey’s family combined. The Milkoviches had spent a lot more time with the Gallaghers over the year, and Sunday lunches were now a regular thing, whether they were at either house. Mickey loved it. He’d spent the last year finally getting what he’d been missing since his mom died. A big, happy family.

Mandy and his best friend had moved in, his brothers had come back permanently, he had a whole new family that he knew he could depend on, and there was never a dull moment. He was openly and confidently out, with a boyfriend who loved him, he’d been accepted to an amazing university and was going to live in the city of his dreams with the love of his life. It all seemed too good to be true.

“Mick!” Damon shouted across the room, and Mickey turned away from his family dancing in the tiny living room to his best friend. “Smoke?” He asked, and Mickey nodded.

“Ian’s trying to get me to quit, you know.” Mickey told his friend as he sparked up.

“Huh? I saw him out here not ten minutes ago!” Damon said incredulously.

“I know.” Mickey said, rolling his eyes. “It’s more of a ‘do as I say and not as I do’ kind of deal.” He said, chuckling at Ian’s illogical reasonings.

“No offence, but that is dumb.” Damon said, laughing.

“I know, why do you think I’m out here?” The boys laughed together for a while before falling into a comfortable silence for a minute or so.

“Hey,” Damon said, suddenly serious. “Are you scared?”

Mickey turned to Damon and found his deep brown eyes staring solemnly back.

“About what?” Mickey asked.

“About leaving, about college. About what will happen with Ian?”

Mickey pondered for a minute.

“I’m scared fucking shitless.” He admitted easily.

“You are?” Damon asked, clearly shocked at the sudden admission.

“Of course I am! I’m moving to a whole new city, with the aim to actually see myself through full time education without leaning on anyone else, I’ll be away from my friends and my family, everything is going to change. So of course I’m scared.” He said, taking a quick puff on his cigarette. “I used to try to be a certain type of guy, who was never afraid of anything, but that guy, the guy I was trying to be was the guy who didn’t do anything frightening. The only reason I wasn’t scared was because I didn’t do anything that was scary.”

Damon listened raptly, he’d never heard his best friend talk like this in all the years he’d known him, and for the hundredth he found himself being grateful for Ian having come into his life.

“Doing something new, courageous, self-sacrificing. Those are the things that are scary. Not drug deals, beating people up or pulling a trigger. So yes, I’m scared shitless. And as for Ian, who knows. Who knows what new challenges college, New York, _any_ of it might bring us. We might break up within two months, but as of right now I have the utmost confidence in our relationship, and I know I want to be with him.”

“Wow.” Damon said quietly. “Don’t punch me, but you’ve really grown up.”

“I bloody well hope so?!” Mickey exclaimed. “If I am anywhere near to the guy I was two years ago, feel free to punch me in the face.”

“I will.” Damon said grinning, but he knew he’d never have to. He’d come to far, there was no way he’d lose sight of who he’d become, he knew it. Mickey Milkovich, his best friend, was a good man, and Damon had endless faith in him to become even better, and soar even higher.

Without hesitation, Damon stubbed out his smoke and reached over, wrapping Mickey into a gentle but firm hug. In that moment, he knew that he’d be alright. They all would be. Things were finally looking up.

***

“That was fun, last night.” Ian said, folding a bedsheet and laying it on the floor.

“Yeah,” Mickey said, lying flat on his back texting Damon while Ian slaved over the packing for college. “Damon asked me if I was scared about college.”

“Oh yeah?” Ian asked. “What did you say?” He stood up and walked over to the bed, lying down next to his boyfriend as Mickey locked his phone and threw it down beside him.

“I said yes.” Mickey stated firmly.

“Yeah… Me too.” Ian said. Mickey reached for Ian’s hand and held it, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles which he knew Ian loved. He was endlessly grateful that he was with Ian, who knew him so well, who never judged him for how he was feeling, who would support him to the ends of the earth.

“Love you.” Mickey whispered, bringing Ian’s knuckles to his mouth and kissing them softly.

“I love you too. I can’t wait to start this journey with you.” Ian said just as quietly back. Mickey tried his hardest, but he couldn’t help but let out a snort.

“That was the corniest thing you’ve ever said.” Mickey said through wheezes of laughter.

“Shut up you asshole!” Ian said, also giggling while Mickey howled.

“True though.” Ian admitted quietly, and Mickey stopped laughing and fixed Ian with a fond expression. He rolled over and kissed Ian’s nose, making the redhead squirm.

“I know. If I had words to that effect which are even half as cheesy as those I would use them, but I don't. So ditto.” Ian grinned before kissing Mickey hard.

***

The day had come. Everything was packed, everything was ready, except Mickey. They were due to reach New York the next day, having had to take cars due to all the shit they had for college. Mickey was not looking forward to the drive.

Heartfelt goodbyes had been said, despite the fact that a huge gaggle of their combined family were accompanying the pair to New York to help them move in. Mickey loved his family, but he still couldn’t get why all the Gallaghers, bar lip, were crying their eyes out. They still had a fucking twelve hour car journey to get through before they said their actual goodbyes.

Kev’s van along with another Joey had rented were packed with Ian and Mickey’s stuff, ready for the long journey to the Big Apple. But there was something Mickey had to do first, and if he didn't do it, he just wouldn’t feel right leaving.

“I’m gonna go… You know.” Mickey said to Ian, who nodded understandingly. Mickey turned to walk away but Ian caught him by the arm. He didn’t say anything, just gave him a quick, chaste kiss. It was all Mickey needed. When they parted, Ian nodded and Mickey smiled before turning away and walking out of the door.

He trudged the familiar path to his destination without thinking, as he had so many times before. He thought about the previous circumstances he would walk this route, the grief, discord and unhappiness in which he used to be constantly enveloped. It was one of those moments of realisation that hit him at the strangest of times, that he was happy.

He took a right, then a left, then opened the old wrought iron gate that he’d opened so many times before and picked his way through the headstones. He probably could have done it with his eyes closed.

He stopped walking, looking down at his brother’s name, engraved onto the headstone.

“Hi.” Mickey said. “Just came- came to say goodbye.” His voice broke.

He was happy, he had a world of opportunities ahead of him, but that meant leaving things behind. Routines he’d perfected over so many years, secret places of escape, and the comfort of being close to his brother.

He dug around in his pocket until he found the lighter that Iggy had given him so many years ago. He used to think it was a part of Iggy for him to have with him to be close to him,, but now he saw it as a piece of himself. He took a furtive look around him before crouching down and digging a tiny hole with his fingers at the foot of the headstone. He slotted the lighter into it and covered it back over with the soil.

Now Iggy had a piece of him. Though he was moving to New York, and despite the fact that he’d be back at Christmas, his brother now had a part of Mickey himself that would always be with him. Mickey didn’t need anything material to feel close to his brother. He knew that now. Only memories, and knowing Iggy well enough to know when he would have called him an idiot, should he still be alive. That’s all he needed.

With a sigh, Mickey stood up. He took one last look at his brother’s grave, reaching out to place a hand on the headstone for a second, before turning and walking away.

He could do it. He could do it now. He could go to New York, he could go to college, he could explore a whole new city, and he could do it all with Ian.

His new life was just around the corner, and he couldn’t fucking wait.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> замовкни! - shut up!
> 
> I cannot thank any of you enough for accompanying me on this journey. Eight months, and twelve months of writing has brought me to this point. 10,000 hits is more than I ever could have imagined, and your comments mean the world and bring me endless happiness. 
> 
> The boys' storylines may have come to what some people may think of as an unrealistic conclusion, but I just wanted there to be a happy ending, like really happy... Sue me! 
> 
> But seriously, I know chapter 19 is so late and that many of you have been waiting patiently for a month and a half, but I really hope this chapter wasn't a let down and that you're happy with my ending. Thank you so much for all the support. Over and out.


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